


Changing Times

by Katrina_Leann



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, TW for non graphic child abuse, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 30,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8823397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katrina_Leann/pseuds/Katrina_Leann
Summary: Tumblr prompt: "I love you. I'm completely and utterly in love with you. Please don't get married."





	1. Chapter 1

"And you're telling me this now?" Ryden breathed quietly, disbelievingly.

Belle nodded earnestly, eyes watering with tears that she absolutely refused to shed. "I know it's bad timing, Ry... I know that. But..."

How did she finish that? But what?

For all of her many words and books and experiences, Belle was stumped. Her heart had been breaking for months now, but she'd never said a word.

Ryden Gold was her best friend.

They'd grown up together, both new to the states, and had immediately become friends. They shared similar taste in music, liked the same books and authors, and both had a desire to travel the world. Yes, Ryden Gold was her best friend.

Who she was completely in love with.

Despite the fact that he was getting married in a week.

And she'd tried. Oh, Belle had _tried_ to like his fiancée, but the woman made it impossible. Cora Mills was nothing but a shallow, petty woman who wanted a husband that had money.

Ryden Gold had worked every day since he was fifteen, saving up his paychecks and building up his understanding of corporate law and the human psyche. The man was bloody brilliant, a well known up and coming lawyer.

He was also very well off.

Belle had been there as Cora batted her eyelashes and giggled at his jokes. She'd been there as the other woman teased and flirted, spewing empty promises and lies into Ryden's ears.

But like a fool - a _cowardly fool_ \- Belle hadn't said a word. Now, because of that, her best friend was going to marry a woman who was only after him so she didn't have to lift a single manicured fingernail.

"Belle...? You still with me?"

Snapping out of her memories, Belle leveled Ryden with her best pleading stare. "I'm sorry that it's taken me this long to tell you, Ry. But this is a mistake."

Ryden shook his head fondly and tucked a strand of hair behind Belle's ear, "You're just worried that she'll take over Monday Movie Madness."

Monday Movie Madness.

It was a tradition that they'd started as kids, staying over at each others houses every first Monday of the month to watch movies all night.

Cora had been...less than pleased when Ryden had announced that he'd be going over to Belle's house, alone.

She'd thrown a fit actually. Calling him childish and telling him that once they were married this "foolish" behavior would stop. He was a grown man. It was time to act like one.

Belle had hated her since.

"Well, yeah but...that's not all!" She protested, desperately trying to come up with something to say that would make him see. He wasn't happy. Belle knew that.

She knew _him_.

"Belle, I know that this may seem a bit sudden, but it's the right thing to do." And when he looked at her, Belle just barely saw the flash of fear in his dark eyes.

Ryden hadn't had much support growing up. His mother had died in childbirth, his aunts had perished about a month after he'd moved to the states, and his father was a good for nothing abusive drunk.

He'd had her though.

She'd held him as he sobbed over his aunts graves', she'd listened as he told her stories about better days - when his father wasn't drunk off his mind and Ryden had hoped that maybe this was a sign of the clouds finally parting.

And, in the aftermath of said hope, hidden bruises and cracked lips...

Belle had never left his side.

But they weren't kids anymore. And holding his hand was no longer an innocent gesture of comfort, a peck on the forehead didn't just mean goodnight anymore.

Things changed. Sometimes Belle had to remind herself that under his suits and faux coldness, Ryden Gold was still the same little boy that she'd grown up with.

The one that was terrified of being alone.

"Oh, Ry," Belle opened her arms to him, and he all but fell into them, his nose nuzzling against her throat.

They stayed that may for a long time before Belle pulled back, placing a reassuring kiss to his forehead.

Holding his chin in her hand she gave him no choice but to meet her eyes as she stated, "I love you. I'm completely and utterly in love with you, and I have been since we were kids. Please don't get married."

Ryden's eyes went wide, teardrops gathering at his bottom lashes. "I love you too, Belle."

His voice was breathless and Belle was only vaguely aware of the tears on her own cheeks as she brushed his away with shaking fingers.

His eyes slipped closed when she caressed the line of his jaw, a sound reminiscent of a quiet purr escaping him.

Amazed, she traced his face very carefully, watching as the furrow between his brows deepened when she ghosted her thumbs over his closed eyelids.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He breathed softly, leaning into her until his lips just grazed the edge of her ear.

Belle let her head fall to his shoulder with a rueful chuckle. "Fear? Stupidity? The desire to do the right thing even though it broke my heart?"

Ryden hummed in agreement, his cheek still pressed to her crown.

It seemed like they stayed that way for hours, the silence wrapping around them - echoing their declarations of love to the wind that howled outside her bedroom window.

"I don't love her," Ryden admitted quietly, drawing a shuddering breath that Belle felt roll through him. "I just...it seemed right, y'know? Like I..."

He exhaled loudly and Belle felt a single teardrop drip into her hair. "I just needed someone. Someone who would hold me, like you used to. Someone who could take my hand and make me feel invincible, someone who... someone who made me feel _brave_."

She shushed him, nuzzling closer into his embrace, wrapping her arms tighter and tighter around him until her muscles ached and she feared that she might crush him.

"I wanted you. I thought that I could learn to love her, but I just wanted you, Belle. With your books and adventures and ridiculous high heels."

A watery laugh escaped her as she pressed a long kiss to the side of his neck. "I wanted you too. But I thought that you wanted her and I realized that I wanted you happy more than I wanted you for myself."

Ryden let out a soft whimper at her confession. "It was always you, Belle. I was too afraid to risk our friendship by pushing for something I didn't think you'd want. I can't lose you."

"You're right," Belle whispered, pulling back to once again look at him. "You _can't_ lose me. No matter what Ryden Gold, I'm yours. I love you, okay? And I'm not going anywhere, not ever. Not unless you ask me to."

Ryden plopped onto her bed, shaking his head at the ceiling. "I'll never ask you to. But I...I have to go."

And just like that, Belle's heart broke anew.

"Oh, of course," she didn't bother hiding the tears in her eyes. He would've noticed them anyway. "I understand."

No she didn't.

In fact, she didn't understand at all. Hadn't they just told each other that they were in love? Did that mean _absolutely_ _nothing_?

"Belle," at some point he'd risen and was now standing right in front of her, hands cupping her cheeks. And Belle hated how she immediately leaned into him. "I have to talk to Cora. Mistake or not, love or not, she deserves better than this."

Breathless, Belle let her mouth open on a silent gasp. "Talk to her about what?"

Because there was a fuzzy feeling of pure joy buzzing just under her skin as Ryden traced her cheeks, his expressive eyes locked on hers. And it was addicting. This feeling rushing through her as he leaned in just enough to tap his forehead with hers.

So she nodded her understanding, biting her lip in restraint as he placed a long kiss to her forehead.

Yeah, definitely different than when they were kids. _Way_ different.

"Give me a few days?" He pleaded softly, "Long enough to straighten this out."

Belle nodded again, returning his kiss to her forehead, loving the way his long eyelashes fluttered closed.

"I really need to go, Belle," he rasped, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

A full body shiver shot through Belle and she agreed instantly.

If he didn't leave now, he wouldn't be leaving tonight.

So she stood perfectly still as he left and strained her ears until she could no longer hear his car engine. She could do this. She could wait.

A few days without Ryden Gold was a vast improvement over a life without him.


	2. The Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and Cora go at it.

In hindsight, Belle probably should've expected this. After her discussion with Ryden and their unplanned admission of feelings, her mind had been, obviously, a little muddled.

Now Belle was starting to regret her lack of preparation.

"I knew I shouldn't have allowed that man to stay at your house! Whatever you've said to him must've been said during your Movie Mania Monday."

"Monday Movie Madness," Belle corrected with a sigh, leaning down to pick up the books Cora had knocked to the floor when she'd burst into the library and stormed up towards the circulation desk. "And my conversation with Ry happened yesterday. Which was Thursday."

Cora sneered and leaned forward, narrowing her eyes into dangerous slits. "I've worked too hard and come too far to lose him like this now."

That made Belle pause for a moment.

Unease stirred in the pit of her stomach as she considered that Cora might actually love Ryden. The other woman certainly didn't show her love, at least not that Belle had ever seen, but did that mean that there was none?

"You care for him?" Belle asked, attempting to appear nonchalant and relaxed, even as her heart bruised the inside of her chest with its incessant pounding.

Cora snorted in amusement. "I care for me. Ryden just happens to align with my best interests."

Any trace of guilt that Belle had developed immediately dissolved, her eyes widening in utter disbelief. Cora seemed unfazed by her stunned silence, continuing with a cold, shark like smile. "Now I see no reason that we both can't benefit here, darling. I understand, he was your childhood friend and now that he's... rather comfortable - while you're stuck here - it all seems unfair."

"Get out." Belle demanded softly, the thought that Ry had been about to give himself completely to a woman who thought of him as nothing more than a walking bank stealing the air right from her lungs.

She felt very drained, and very chilled. Any woman who was lucky enough to win the heart of Ryden Gold should consider themselves unbelievably fortunate, whether he lived in a castle or a camping tent. 

Because that's exactly how Ryden would feel. Because if they knew him well enough, then they'd know about his past and the fact that he trusted them despite it should be humbling.

Because Ryden didn't just love with his heart. He loved with his soul, with everything that made him who he was. If he knew about the things Cora was saying, it would destroy him. It would resurrect the demons of his childhood that Belle had worked so hard to destroy.

That realization was like a bucket of ice water over her head.

The pain that she felt for Ryden eased as something sharper shot through her. It was powerful and consuming and even a little dark. Deeper than anger, but sharper than rage. She'd felt it before, certainly, but not to this extent.

Protectiveness.

"Get the hell out of my library, and stay away from Ryden," Belle snarled, looking the other woman right in her eyes and refusing to back down.

Cora took a half a step back, a single eyebrow raised in surprise. "You actually love him."

The pure distaste in her voice made Belle see red. "I said get out. It won't be done as nicely next time."

"Is that a threat, Miss French?" Cora taunted, her eyes once again narrowed.

"No. It's a promise," very deliberately, Belle walked over and opened the library doors. "Stay away from me, and stay away from Ry."

Cora sauntered over to where Belle stood, leaning down to whisper. "You have no idea who you're dealing with, little girl. And you know what they say...if you play with fire, you better expect to get burned."

"You have no idea who _you're_ dealing with. I did some digging, Cora. On your company - Queen of Hearts?" The way that Cora's eyes widened slightly filled Belle with a dark sense of accomplishment. "And as it just so happens, its CEO is wanted for fraud and embezzlement, but she went missing about a year ago. Looks remarkably like... well..." Belle gave Cora a quick once over, tilting her head to the side in mock contemplation. "You."

"You little-"

"Call me what you will," Belle interjected sharply, "but what I said stands. All I want from you is distance. Distance from me and from Ryden."

Cora's jaw clenched and unclenched, her eyes flashing hotly. Without another word, Cora stormed past Belle and down the steps, disappearing around the corner.

Slowly, Belle's breathing returned to normal and her stomach stopped twisting. She still felt dizzy and vaguely ill, but she knew that had more to do with nerves than anything else.

Months ago, Belle had heard the report on the news about a company whose CEO had been facing charges before she seemingly just...disappeared. A picture had been shown on the TV and Belle had thought that it looked a bit like Cora, but she'd just chalked it up to the fact that she was undeniably jealous.

Until now. After hearing what she had said, the ease with which she'd planned to use Ryden...

"Belle? You in here?"

Speaking of...

Belle looked up just in time to see him turn the corner, an adorable blush staining his cheeks as he tried (and failed) to hide a bouquet of roses behind his back.

Firmly pushing her encounter with Cora from her mind, Belle giggled and accepted the roses with a slight curtsy. Or tried to, anyway.

But her heels wobbled suddenly and Ryden hastily wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to his chest as she laughed.

"My hero," she giggled, counting it a victory when his cheeks reddened again.

"Or your kryptonite. I can't even give you flowers right."

Belle swatted at his arm and sighed, "I think that had more to do with my love of heels than your thoughtful consideration. Trust me Ry, it was _very_ romantic. I'm swooning."

He smiled at her lame joke, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was an undercurrent of something dark lurking in his eyes, one that made all of her amusement flee and the hair at the back of her neck stand up. "Ryden?"

And just like that, he was back. At least partially so. There was still something wrong, but the coldness that had radiated off of him had been lost to a rush of love that warmed Belle to see.

"Sorry, love. It's just...I talked to Cora and it didn't..."

The sound of other woman's name made Belle's anger and bitterness return tenfold, but she forced those emotions back, focusing on the man in front of her who currently looked _entirely_ too much like a kicked puppy for her to feel comfortable. "What'd she say?"

The flash of raw pain in his eyes answered her question, even as he stuttered, "I-It hardly matters. I know that it's not true, but..."

But it still hurt. Belle placed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I'd really like to heard it. If that's okay."

Because knowing Ryden he'd bury this within him, hide it from her, and let it slowly tear him apart with her being none the wiser to his suffering. Not a chance in this world or the next Belle would be letting _that_ happen.

Still, she had to tread carefully. Too much force on a crumbling wall would destroy it, not enough would allow it to slowly disintegrate over time. But just enough? Just enough could hold it together. Not fix the broken parts, but strengthen the rest enough so that the broken bits were no longer enough to destroy the entire wall.

"She just...she said that the only reason you were pretending to love me was so that you could get my money. She said that you didn't want me and I was a fool to think otherwise."

Every last bit.

That's how much of Belle's self restraint was used to not chase down Cora and strangle her. Belle considered herself a peaceful woman, but she was willing to make an exception right now.

"Ryden, look at me," she commanded softly, waiting until his dark eyes were locked on her to kiss his forehead.

Reading him had always been remarkably easy for Belle. Little facial expressions were like a book and his eyes had always told her more than his lips ever could. And right now they were _screaming_.

"I love you, Ryden Gold. I loved you growing up and I love you now. I loved you when your idea of a fancy meal was anything not on Granny's dinner special and I love you after we've tried so many different kinds of lobster and garlic sauce it's actually ridiculous," she paused here as he laughed against her hair, his breath warming her neck. "The point is Ry, I love you. Not the money. Not the suits. Not the crazy expensive car. You, Ryden Gold."

His arms tightened around her and Belle returned his fierce embrace. "I love you so much, Belle. And I knew that what she said wasn't true but...it still hurt. I was _marrying_ her. I guess that just...I don't...I love you. I love you Belle."

Cora had lost more than a company.

She'd lost this. She'd lost Ryden and his hugs and flowers...his heart. Belle decided that knowledge was punishment enough. Cora may have lost him, but Belle was going to make sure that no other woman got that chance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fully intended for this to be a one shot. I blame you guys for keeping my muse alive and kicking. This is now open for prompts:https://www.tumblr.com/blog/katrina-winslow


	3. The Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit about Belle and Ryden's past. Also, Malcolm is terrible.

_"He's not good enough for her," Ryden muttered, running a hand through his hair and scowling slightly._

_He wasn't jealous._

_No, it was simple really. Gregory Gaston was a pompous, self serving, no good bastard who didn't even deserve to be in the same room as Belle, let alone take her to dinner._

_David sighed and rolled his shoulders, offering Ryden an encouraging smile. "Look, man...we both know that what Greg wants with Belle isn't a relationship. So why don't you go tell her that?"_

_"If he tries to pressure her, I'll kill him." Ryden said coldly, knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists. Consequences and repercussions be damned, Gregory Gaston would die._

_David snorted a laugh. "You wouldn't get the chance. Belle'd do it herself, then call you to help her hide the body."_

_Ryden allowed himself a tight smile, heart still pounding nervously. "We'd have to call you too, obviously."_

_And when David fixed him with a curious tilt of his head, Ryden continued, "Your truck, Nolan. We'd need to move the body somehow."_

_"Ah, right. Of course." David nodded gravely, feigning complete seriousness before they both burst out laughing, the anxiety fading and leaving Ryden._

_Belle would be fine. And if she wasn't, Ryden knew that he was the first person she'd call._

_He'd never let her down._

~X~

This was a terrible idea. Absolutely terrible.

Belle grinned as she leaned even closer, lower lip trapped between her teeth. "Ya know...we could always head back to my place..."

Ryden shook his head, spearing lasagna onto his fork and shoving it in his mouth. "No," he swallowed and narrowed his eyes, giving her a playful glare. "You said that we could go out to dinner and have a nice, romantic evening."

Belle nodded her assent, "And it has been quite romantic. So we should leave." She tilted her head slightly to the side and trailed her fingers down the elegant line of her neck, smirking at the way his eyes followed her hand.

Snapping out of his daze, Ryden returned his attention to his food. "We haven't even had dessert yet." All they had to do was make it through the next ten minutes and then-

"I thought that we could have that at my place," Belle murmured quietly, reminding Ryden that they weren't exactly alone. But _bloody hell_ , that made it even worse. Or better, depending on your perspective.

"You're impossible, you know that right?" He laughed, tossing his napkin onto the table and shaking his head at her.

Belle gave an adorable half shrug, her cheeks slowly heating with a blush. "Maybe not. Maybe I'm just really in love."

But before Ryden had time to answer, a new voice cut in, "Belle? That you?"

Gregory Gaston.

He and Belle had dated throughout junior and senior year during high school, then he'd received a full ride scholarship for football and no one had heard from him. Until now.

"Greg," she smiled politely, but Ryden could see the wariness in her eyes. "How've you been?"

Greg laughed and flopped down into the booth next to Belle, quickly taking her hands in his. "How I've been doesn't much matter, right now. But you, how've you been? Still as gorgeous as ever I see."

Belle shot Ryden an apologetic look and tugged her hands out of his grasp. "I've been well, thank you. We were actually just about to head out."

Greg's eyes snapped to Ryden and his lips curled into a bitter smile. "Still can't let her go, eh?"

Ryden chilled, the entire diner seeming to freeze.

"I mean a girl like Belle deserves to see the world, yeah? But she's stuck here because of you. Though that's hardly a surprise, Gold. You're good at holding her back." The bitter smile painted on Greg's lips never wavered, even when the entire diner shrunk in on itself.

He was right.

Vaguely he could hear Belle shouting, but the blood had rushed to his ears, his vision blurring over with tears that burned. Greg was _right_.

Belle was trapped here, with him. He was like a chain, wasn't he?

"Excuse me," he whispered quietly, rising and fleeing because that's what cowards did. They ran. Gregory was right.

His father was right.

_"Ryden, darling?" Quickly he pulled up his shirt collar, but not fast enough. She saw the bruises._

_"I know the diner's closed but Papa's coming. It's just snowing outside and really cold but I promise I won't touch anything-"_

_"Ryden," Granny interrupted, kneeling down so that she could look into his eyes. "I'm not upset with you. Not at all. Are you hungry?"_

_He was actually. Starving._

_But he had no money and if he charged in onto his fathers already astronomical tab...well..._

_It wouldn't be good._

_So Ryden shook his head. "No ma'am. I'm okay."_

_His stomach chose that exact moment to grumble loudly, making his cheeks heat with embarrassment._

_Granny raised an eyebrow and gave him a warm smile. "Tell you what...my Ruby is having her birthday party tomorrow, why don't you help me make some mini sandwiches and then you can have the extras? Sound good?"_

_Ryden nodded and followed her down the long hallway, blinking sleepily as she opened up a pantry door to retrieve the bread._

They were screaming.

The voices in his head that could never truly be silenced but sometimes faded were making their presence known. And Ryden couldn't breath. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak.

If they'd just _shut up_ then maybe-

_"Why do you always come here, Ry?" Belle asked, her curly head leaning on his shoulder as they sat together._

_"I don't know." But it was a lie. Ever since Granny had shown him this little pantry, it had been... comfortable. Small and dark and quiet._

_Completely, totally, blissfully silent._

_"You can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you Ry. Always will be." And of course Belle would say something like that. It was just like her._

_But that didn't make it true. Because they were just kids right now, and it was easy to make meaningless promises in bread pantries. But soon they would have to crawl back out into the real world, and then she'd leave._

_Everyone left him._

_Still, sometimes it was nice to pretend._

"Ry...sweetheart I need you to look at me. Please, my love? Just look at me..."

It wasn't so much her voice that tugged him from the shadows of his past. It was her tone. The pleading undertone that made even a coward like him stir with the urge to protect her.

Ashamed, Ryden couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Belle. I didn't mean to! It's just-I'm weak. And the voices..."

Choked him. Drowned him. But that was no excuse. He'd acted like a complete fool and no doubt embarrassed her greatly. Just add it to his ever growing list of failures.

"I understand if you want nothing to do with me," because who would, after a scene like that? Belle was unbelievably kind and caring, but even she had her limits. He'd fix it!

He'd bury his demons and force himself to be better for her. He could do it! He could-

The sudden feeling of her lips against his sent all thoughts to a screeching halt. She was warm and soft and pressing ever closer as her tongue gently brushed his own, making him groan into her mouth.

She moved carefully, straddling his legs and trapping him within the safe circle of her arms. Gradually the voices quieted to a gentle hum, his head no longer spinning and his lap still full of Belle.

"It was a panic attack, Ry. Provoked and not at all your fault," she nuzzled against him, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his chest, right over his pounding heart. "I'm sorry I didn't stop Greg in time. I was so focused on trying to be civil and polite that I didn't even notice that you were slipping away."

"He's right, Belle. I'm holding you back."

Belle shook her head against his chest, her hair tickling his nose. "No. _Nothing_ that bastard said was even partially true. You're incredible, amazing and kind and mine. You're _mine_ , Ryden. And you're most certainly not holding me back. If I didn't have you in my corner I don't think I'd be brave enough to do half the things I do."

Ryden lost all sense of time.

Outside the closed doors he could hear the distant sounds of pots and pans clanging, of Granny's anxious demanding and Ruby's loud protests. He could hear dishes moving, water running...

But it all seemed so far away.

They could've stayed cuddled together in that small pantry for minutes or hours before Belle whispered softly, "Can you move?"

"Yeah, I think so," worry struck him suddenly, yanking him from the peaceful lull. "Are you hurt? Uncomfortable?"

Belle shook her head. "No, no. We can stay here for a while longer. But, uh...it might be kinda hard to explain if Granny goes to get some extra bread and sees us in here," her lips pressed softly against his cheek. "Besides, my bed is a lot more comfortable."

"Belle," Ryden started, only to cut himself off. He felt like he was just hovering over chaos. The voices held back by a single, flimsy barrier that would break at any second.

"To cuddle, Ry. Just to cuddle." Belle promised, nuzzling a bit closer. "But we can try our luck here. I don't mind."

Ryden shook his head and gently eased her back. "I think that we've pushed it enough today. I-If that's okay? I think I'd like to head back to your place."

Belle beamed and stood, offering him her hand.

"I love you," she told him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "I love you and I'm not going anywhere. Not because you've trapped me here, but because I want to be with you. Very much. Every day."

Ryden felt a blush rise and ducked his head to hide it. "I love you too."

That was never a question. It had become a part of him, his love for her. The only part of him the voices couldn't touch.

That would _never_ change.


	4. Graves and Flowers

"I don't understand. And I don't necessarily agree with you, but I do love you. So I'll stay."

Ryden felt his lips curl into a slight smile as he knelt next to Malcolm Gold's headstone. He tried to come at least once a month, bringing flowers once a year on his fathers birthday, but not bothering any other visit.

He wasn't here for commiseration. Malcolm had been a shitty father and a rather lousy excuse for a man, but Ryden felt like he owed him _something_.

His mother had left when he was three.

Ryden didn't even remember the woman, all he had was a picture of the two of them at his third birthday party. She'd left less than two weeks after. For all his many, many, _many_ flaws...

Malcolm hadn't ever left.

There was a soft russle of fabric, then Belle was kneeling next to him. She contemplated the grave for a moment, teeth sunk lightly into her bottom lip.

After some time, she cleared her throat and spoke slowly, "I never liked you. I hated you, actually. I hated how you tricked people out of their money, and I hated how despite all of your scamming and scheming you ended up with a son as wonderful as Ryden," she flashed him a smile that he did his best to return as his cheeks burned. "But without you I suppose there would be no Ryden. So, for that, you were very important to me."

Ryden pulled her close to him and pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, considering himself the luckiest bloke on the face of the planet for the millionth time. Belle immediately snuggled into his half embrace, her warm breath caressing his earlobe.

"I love you so much," he muttered into her hair, inhaling the smell of old books and roses deeply, his heart fluttering.

"I know. I love you too Ry. More than I've ever loved anyone...ever."

His heart picked up its pace, beating frantically. "I-uh...I haven't always believed that," his throat felt thick, his head swimming and his stomach flipping. But he soldiered on, forcing himself to be honest. "I thought that you were my friend because you felt sorry for me. Not because...not because you cared."

Belle's gaze softened, and gently she took his hands between hers. "Can we go to the car? I don't think that we should have this conversation here."

Ryden nodded and allowed her to help him to his feet, smiling when she interlaced their fingers and led him to the car. Not that he minded. He would happily follow her anywhere.

Once they were both in the car, Belle started its engine and gave him a nervous glance. "If it's okay? I won't drive us far, just...away..."

Ryden nodded and sat back, "Of course, love. I trust you."

And true to her word, she only drove a few miles, then put the car on park and crawled through the car and into the backseat.

Ryden laughed. "Y'know, there are these nifty things called doors. Really handy tools, too."

"Oh, you," she laughed, scrunching her nose and sticking out her tongue. "Get back here and kiss me."

Shocked, he could only stare dumbly until the very tip of her tongue touched her bottom lip and drug it in between her teeth, then he launched himself into the backseat with her.

Belle sputtered out a laugh, "Y'know, there are these nifty things called doors."

Ryden allowed himself a little chuckle at her theft of his line, then leaned in and kissed her. Hard.

Her lips immediately parted under his, arms winding around his neck and pulling him close as possible. "But I know that you love me, now. I-I believe it. You made me believe." Ryden whispered against her lips, running a hand down her back.

Belle pulled away and beamed, pressing a long kiss to his lips. "Good," she murmured. "I'm so in love with you, Ry. And I'll tell you a hundred times a day if that's what you need to hear."

A deep laugh escaped him at that, his nose scrunching up as he thought. "Not a hundred. But a few dozen couldn't hurt."

"Done," Belle declared.

They resumed their frantic kiss, hands mapping each other's bodies before Belle pulled away with a gasp. "Take me home Ryden."

He smiled, nodding eagerly and refusing to blush as she giggled at the state of him.

His past might've been dark and unhappy, but his future seemed to get brighter every day. And he knew it'd continue as long as Belle was by his side.

And he never planned to let her go.


	5. Speeding Tickets

Ryden was having a very difficult time finding a flaw in his life right now.

To start with, the small and cramped apartment that he had once shared with his father a lifetime ago was the furthest thing from his mind as he stretched out in the king size bed.

Ah. And there was the second, the most important. The reason he woke up and went to sleep with a smile.

Belle grumbled adorably and snuggled closer to him, burrowing under the covers and into his arms. "Go back to sleep."

Ryden shook with silent laughter, pressing a soft kiss to her warm cheek. "Can't. You know me, sweetheart. Once I'm up, I'm _up_."

A bare leg tangled through both of his as her arms wrapped themselves tightly around his waist. "Stay here. I'm comfortable."

"Tempting," he murmured quietly, allowing his voice to drop in register as her breathing evened out. "Sleep now, Belle. There's no reason for you to be up with me."

He rubbed her back in long strokes, smiling when she nuzzled into his neck. "I love you." She breathed against the shell of his ear.

Only when her breathing evened out completely and her body totally relaxed did Ryden slip out of the bed and pad silently to the door.

"I love you too."

~X~

This was bloody pointless. Completely and utterly pointless.

When Ryden had envisioned his life as a lawyer, he'd envisioned high stakes cases and long, sleepless nights. He'd envisioned every day to be jam packed.

He hadn't expected this.

"A speeding ticket?" Ryden asked in disbelief, eyeing Midas coldly.

The other man simply shrugged and continued to stir his coffee with practiced dispassion. For long moments he let the ticking clock answer Ryden before pushing his chair from the desk with a long sigh. "Yes, Gold, a speeding ticket."

Ryden blinked. "Surely you can assign a younger employee onto the case. Someone with less experience."

A _rookie_. It was the unspoken word hanging in the air between them as tension crackled. Ryden had worked too hard and too long to be put on a low case like this. He'd earned his title and he would fight for it.

Midas clicked his tongue in displeasure. "She asked for the very best to be put on the case. She wants it wrapped up and she's willing to pay quite handsomely for that."

All of his arguments flew out of the window as he pictured the sparkling ring he'd seen in the display window at the local jewelry store. The one that would look absolutely perfect on Belle's finger.

"How handsomely?" Ryden questioned finally, willing himself to swallow his pride if it meant Belle could have the ring she deserved.

A slow, shark like grin stretched on Midas' face as he leaned back in his chair, fingers twitching slightly. "I already told you, _quite_ handsomely. It'd be well worth the time, I assure you."

Ryden looked at the ceiling and counted to ten, then met Midas' gaze evenly. "I want to meet her first. If she's willing to pay that much just to avoid a little ticket, then there's something else going on here. I'm not putting myself in that position without finding out what."

Midas nodded his approval. "I'll have Miss Danvers be here at six thirty sharp."

Ryden raised a single eyebrow. "Miss Danvers?"

Midas gave another sharp nod. "Indeed. She'll be here at six thirty," he raised a hand and waved it towards the door. "Go and enjoy the rest of your day."

Ryden left without another word, forcing his pride to stay down as the image of Belle with his ring on her finger burned in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my little sister for helping with the name. Sometimes OC's are hard...


	6. The Next Step

"A speeding ticket case? That's what Midas wants you to focus on?"

Ryden nodded and popped another fry into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "He said that she wants it resolved quickly."

Belle hummed in understanding, foregoing the chair in order to curl up on his lap. "I know it seems a bit silly but maybe this case is what you need. A break from drama? A chance to relax?"

Ryden smiled and wound a finger around one of her curls, tugging softly. "I have plenty of time for relaxing. But I do think I'll take the case."

Surprised blue eyes flickered up to his and he leaned down to press a quick kiss to the very tip of her nose. "It'll be good experience. Plus, I'm a little curious." _And I need the money so that I can buy you the ring I've been eyeing for weeks._

Belle leaned farther back into his arms, head pillowed comfortably against his chest. "Can we just stay here? Like this?"

Ryden chuckled, nuzzling into her hair. "That's exactly how I feel every day. On nights that you stay over, seeing you there..." _That's why I'm willing to do this case._

Ryden took a deep breath, "Belle-"

But at the exact same time Belle mumbled, "Hey, Ry-"

Ryden nudged her cheek with the very tip of his nose, "Go on, sweetheart."

Suddenly Belle seemed a little unsure, muttering almost nervously, "Its about that...I've been thinking. I mean, I know we've got plenty of time but - I'm always at your place anyway so it's not like it'd be-"

"Move in with me," Ryden interjected, a smile stretched across his lips. "That's what...I was just about to..."

Belle beamed, leaning in for a kiss that left him breathless and a little dizzy.

"Does that mean-?" He trailed off slowly, holding her piercing gaze and jumping in shock at her choked laugh.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" She placed quick, little kisses all over his face, "Yes of course! God, I love you so much!"

Ryden laughed, standing with her in his arms and spinning around.

They were in the library during her lunch hour and they'd both have to go back to their respective jobs soon, but as far as Ryden was concerned, this moment was perfect.

~X~

"If the officer has no physical evidence that I was speeding, then he has no right to accuse me of such."

Ryden barely swallowed his string of curses, locking his jaw and once again going over the case with the woman in question. "Look, Miss Danvers, I understand your frustration-"

She cut him off with a loud snort. "Spare me the lawyer bullshit. I know how this goes, alright? You talk and talk, but you never deliver. I'm not interested in pretty words."

"They're hardly 'pretty words'," Ryden forced out through clenched teeth. "I'm your lawyer. You hired me."

"I hired the best this pathetic excuse for a town had to offer." She shot back, fixing him with a dark glare.

"And like it or not Miss Danvers, that's me. So we can _try_ and work together or you can face the court on your own."

Ryden saw her nose twitch as her jaw worked silently, eyes burning him with her gaze.

"Make no mistake, Mr. Gold, I am in charge here."

"Of course, Miss Danvers," Ryden responded, "I'm merely trying to help." _And end this miserable encounter as soon as possible._

She plastered a fake smile onto her face, eyes still cold. "Of course you are."

There was a long, tense silence before Miss Danvers leaned forward, hands clasped. "I don't know about you, Mr. Gold, but I'd like this to be over as quickly as possible...if you don't mind, that is."

"Agreed," Ryden said shortly, his professional mask slipping on as he counted the minutes until this case was over.

 


	7. Understanding

"Damn woman!" Ryden snarled, throwing his phone onto the table next to his bed and burying his face in his hands.

There were only two weeks until Amelia Danvers court date and the bloody woman _refused_ to heed any of his advice. She was arrogant and _completely_ unprepared for the trial.

They'd chew her up and spit her out and as much as Ryden longed to see the woman get what she had coming, he wanted to see his ring on Belle's delicate finger more.

Speaking of...

The bed dipped behind him as Belle's arms slid around his waist, her fingers trailing up until she reached his shoulders and started massaging the tension there. She was an angle. And nothing he deserved. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Ryden shook those thoughts away and leaned back into her, breathing in the scent of vanilla and old books as his body inevitably relaxed. "Just frustrated, my love. I'm sorry. I'll worry about it later."

Her fingers tightened slightly on his shoulders, "Mmm. Stay here. The sooner you get this done, the sooner it'll be _done_."

Ryden whimpered in protest when she slipped out from behind him, grabbing his laptop from the top of their - _their!_ \- dresser and plopping back down next to him. "How can I help?" She asked, leaning on his shoulder for a moment before pulling back.

He smiled at her eagerness, even if there was really nothing she could do to help. "I'm not sure that you can help."

When her face fell in dejection, he hastily added, "I mean with the legal stuff." A stray curl had fallen from the messy bun atop her head and he tucked it behind her ear, stroking her cheek lovingly, "But you being here helps. A lot."

Her eyes lit up suddenly and she sat straighter. "Her financial statements!"

Ryden blinked in confusion.

At his uncomprehending stare, she shoved him in the side, "Her financial statements! If she's never had a ticket before it'll make her look a lot better to the court."

For one completely blissful moment, it was an absolutely perfect idea. Then reality crashed down. "She'll never go for it. She's too...reclusive. You're unbelievably brilliant, though."

Belle smiled a little at his compliment before looking down at her fingers. "But I didn't really help. Sorry, Ry."

He turned to face her, his hand cupping her cheek and his thumb brushing over the smooth line of her jaw. "You've helped more than you realize. Every day."

She smiled at him, shaking her head a little in what Ryden thought was wonder. "You're kind of perfect, y'know?"

Shock made him reel backwards and sputter out a cough. "I...no, Belle. I'm nowhere near perfect." The mere thought of it was absolutely ridiculous. He was under no illusion about the amount of emotional baggage he was lugging around everyday.

A little frown had creased her face, impossibly blue eyes softening into a look that always made him melt. "What makes you think that, Ry?"

As if she had to ask.

Absentee mother, abusive father and two aunts that raised him to the best of their ability. He was the damn _poster child_ for a screwed up childhood.

"We really don't need to do this, love. I'm fine - truly. It's just this case and this client. I'm okay, I swear."

Because the thought of baring his soul to her was not a very attractive one. Not for lack of trust, never that, but for the simple fact that she always had to put him back together. He'd not let some stupid case make him melt down.

Belle didn't look entirely convinced, but she rested her curly head against his shoulder anyway, nuzzling closer into him.

~X~

"Absolutely not. If the court needs proof of my driving creditability they can contact my insurance agency. They needn't see my financial statements."

"I understand that, Miss Danvers, I do. But contacting your insurance company could take weeks and we don't have that kind of time." Ryden sat back and regarded her with a sort of triumphant victory, knowing that his argument was right.

Well - Belle's argument. But he'd elaborated a bit on it, tweaking it so it would be able to one up her own.

Quite suddenly though, she withdrew, shaking her head. "No. I assure you that my financial statements will raise more questions than solve."

Ryden blinked. "Are you involved in a drug cartel?"

Amelia gave a dry snort and gestured to herself. "I'm not sure. Do drug cartels usually hire women on the wrong side of forty?"

"Can't say that I've had much experience. Mafia, then?"

Another snort, this one managing a bit more humor. "Definitely not."

Ryden allowed himself a soft grin, "As long as you have nothing to hide from the law Miss Danvers, I assure you that the court won't care how much money you've spent at a beauty salon."

Her eyes darkened a bit in what Ryden quickly identified as sadness. But there was also an edge, a maniacal glint that made him feel immediately sorry for whatever bloke put it there. "Not a beauty salon."

"Hmm," Ryden tilted his head to the side a bit. "A hitman, then?"

Amelia shook her head with a sad look, all the humor draining from her expression. "No. A private investigator."


	8. The Realization

"It's not the strangest thing I've heard."

Amelia raised a doubtful eyebrow and leveled him with a hard stare. "Oh yeah? Then what, pray tell, tops it Mr Gold?"

There it was again, the slight darkening in her eyes when she said his name. It wasn't hatred, exactly...more like a deep anger. Ryden shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, "Ah, well...I can't discuss cases. Y'know, assured discretion and what not."

Ryden allowed himself a little smile when Amelia snorted out a laugh. Sure, at first she'd been impossibly stubborn and he had wanted nothing more than to toss the whole thing...but now...

"Uh, Mr Gold?"

Ryden shook his head and blinked, "Right. Sorry. Where were we?"

Her lips twitched up into a grin. "My financial statements. And the private investigator."

Ryden leaned all the way back in his chair and tapped his pen against the very edge of the table. "This PI, is he still in the picture?"

Amelia nodded, and once again her eyes darkened in sadness. "Indeed. Mr Dove reports in with me once a month with his progress."

"Progress?" Ryden questioned softly, his head tilting to the side as his lips curled into what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

Minutes ticked by in utter silence before she let out a shaky breath. "Sorry, Mr Gold. You're...different than I expected, but that's not a story I'm keen on sharing."

Ryden nodded in understanding, his teeth catching the very edge of his lip. "I see why you'd say that, truly I do. But you said that Keith Nottingham pulled you over?"

Amelia nodded.

"Well, when - not if, I know these people - they ask for your financial statements, he'll immediately bring up the PI."

Pure defiance flashed over her face as she snarled, "Let him. I don't owe these people a thing."

Ryden nodded again, "Agreed. But that's just what Nottingham does. I believe you, I don't think that you were speeding. And while I'll admit that I'm not quite sure why you're so set on not paying this speeding ticket, I understand that you won't. But Nottingham...he'd rather be drug through hell than be proven wrong."

She opened her mouth to answer, but a shrill shriek startled both of them.

"My phone," she said briefly, then looked down at the offending item before answering. "Mr Dove, now isn't-"

Her entire face went pale, hands shaking. "W-What? I...yes I'm still in Storybrooke. No! I can meet you anywhere. Ok, ok. Yeah, I'm just about done here. Two sounds perfect."

She dropped her phone onto the table, eyes wide. "He thinks he has a lead." Her eyes flickered over to him as they rapidly filled with tears. "He thinks he has a lead."

"Congratulations," Ryden said slowly, confused as hell but - surprisingly - genuinely happy for her.

She shook her head in wonder and tossed her phone onto the table, a shaking hand running through her hair. "Twenty years. It's been _twenty years_."

Ryden blinked and shifted slightly, clearing his throat. "Twenty years?"

She regarded him with blank eyes, her entire face a mask of pain. "Since I thought I lost him forever. But I didn't...Dove's sending a picture. I might see him."

Thoroughly confused, Ryden simply nodded along, not understanding at all.

However, when her phone screen lit up, he made a desperate snatch for it before her hand even moved.

His vision blurred over as he stared at the screen uncomprehendingly. It was him.

The very picture that was currently sitting at the bottom of a box, shoved into the farthest corner of his closet. The only picture he had of his mother.

He'd memorized every line of the image, her bright brown eyes sparkling as she beamed into the camera.

"-the hell are you doing?" And then the phone was snatched out of his grasp.

"Who is that?" Ryden demanded, refusing to believe.

It was a coincidence. An _unbelievable_ coincidence.

Her angry eyes snapped up to his, "None of your concern. You'd best remember your place, sir."

He met her glare with one of his own, any trace of professionalism abandoned as he slowly rose up. "Who is that boy in the picture? Who is he?"

The answer came back, swimming around in his head, but he blocked it out. It just wasn't possible.

"My son!" She finally shouted, breath heaving as Ryden stumbled back.

Her words rang in his ears, sounding far away.

_Twenty years._

Her phone pinged.

_Dove is sending me a picture._

Ryden didn't even turn, merely grabbed his bag and started walking towards the exit. His stomach was turning and flipping, mind battling his heart in order to see which could race the fastest.

Her breath caught.

His hand finally wrapped around the doorknob as he all but flung himself out.

She called out to him. The name he'd never told her.

"Ryden!"

 


	9. Pure Instinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the incredible Kindleheartzyou, who kicked my muse into overdrive. Thank you for all the support.

Something was very wrong.

Belle bit down hard on her lower lip and pushed herself up in the booth to peer over at the door.

Again.

For the fifth time.

Ruby chuckled softly and Belle sank back down, cheeks heating up. "Look, I'm sure he's fine Belle. Probably just forgot that you two were supposed to meet up for lunch today." A comforting hand landed on Belle's shoulder as Ruby squeezed her in a half hug, "Everything's fine."

Belle shook her head slowly. "He's the least forgetful person I know, Ruby. And what about him not answering the phone?"

Ruby's brow creased in thought, "Maybe his phone is dead?"

Something inside of Belle clicked and she stood up slowly. Ryden needed her. She wasn't sure how she knew, but there was an undeniable pull in her stomach, a tug on her heart. "He would have texted me before it died. I-I need to go."

"Of course," Ruby took a little step back, then gently grasped her shoulder and leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. "He's not in the bread pantry. Granny just opened it to restock the shelf in the kitchen."

Belle made an odd sound, something between a cough and a sputter. "You _know_ about that?"

"Malcolm Gold was a bastard. And despite how hard Ryden tries to hide it, not all scars can be covered," Ruby gave her a sad little smile. "Especially emotional ones. I'm glad he found solace."

Belle nodded absolutely, gaze trained to the door as if Ryden would walk in any second. Where was he? "Yeah, the uh-the bread pantry is kinda like a safe space for him."

"Belle," Ruby placed both of her hands on Belle's shoulders, giving her a little shake. "I wasn't talking about the pantry. I was talking about you. Anyone with eyes can see that you two love each other, and have for years. Honestly I was just about to break up that disaster of an engagement before you did."

Belle stood with her mouth partially open, stunned silent. "You were?"

"Mmhm. But you beat me to it," Ruby's gaze turned completely serious, glancing briefly over her shoulder to look at the door. "The point is, Ryden is yours Belle. His heart, his soul...they belong to you. Now go get him."

~X~

"I don't care about the bloody case! I'll pay the stupid ticket and tell everyone that I was speeding like a bat out of hell, I need to know where Ryden Gold's central office is located!"

Belle froze at the new voice, a single eyebrow lifting as she approached the ranting woman.

Her long, brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail, arms braced on the counter to glare into the eyes of a terrified assistant. "I-I don't...perhaps you'd like a new lawyer? I could c-call Midas, I'm sure he'd-Miss Belle!"

Spotted, Belle took another step closer and nodded, glancing between William and the woman. "Mr. Smee...how are you?"

The woman's dark eyes flashed dangerously, teeth clenching so hard that Belle could see the muscles in her jaw quivering in strain. "As much as I enjoy being ignored and pushed aside in favor of exchanging pleasantries, I do believe that I was here _first_."

Her voice was cold and unapologetic, laced with the disapproval that Belle could feel radiating off of her in waves.

So _this_ was Amelia Danvers.

Unless she was mistaken.  

"And who might you be?" Belle asked softly, leaning against the counter and giving the other woman a quick once over.

"I don't see how that's any of your concern," her voice became sharper and deeper, raising herself up to tower over Belle. Not one to be intimidated, Belle matched her cold anger. 

Worry was overwhelming her and if this woman was the last person to see Ryden, she could damn well help Belle find him. 

"It is when the person you're screaming about happens to be my boyfriend, who I can't find."

All at once the woman seemed to deflate, hard eyes going soft and shoulders slumping. "Please tell me that you're joking." She sounded so utterly broken that Belle felt a wave of sympathy pass over her. And confusion.

But that at least was understandable.

"No, I'm not. Ry is my boyfriend...which brings us back to who you are. And why you're suddenly so lax about the ticket you were refusing just a day earlier."

Refusing seemed to light a word as Belle recalled Ryden's tense posture and exhausted eyes. And the minimal sympathy that she had quickly evaporated. 

"I didn't...it was..." her upset gaze suddenly found Smee, something flashing briefly before she once again looked at Belle. "Can we go somewhere? Please?"

Belle nodded her acceptance and led her out the door, turning the corner and once they made decent distance from the building, she halted abruptly, bringing them to a stop. "Who are you?"

"Amelia Danvers. I work with-"

Belle cut her off, shaking her head. "I know that. I mean who are you to Ryden? You've been giving him hell all week about this ticket, what changed?"

Amelia fixed a hopeless, pleading glance on her. "You have to understand..." her voice broke and the pull in Belle's stomach suddenly returned, almost violent in its intensity.

"Who are you?"

Deep and empty brown eyes regarded her, a dark laugh escaping from her trembling lips. "I'm his mother."

 


	10. Liar for Hire

_"They were good people! I didn't want to-"_

_He was cut off by a sharp slap, one that cracked against his cheek so hard his head snapped back. Malcolm clenched his fist as he shook in rage, voice lowering to a dangerous whisper._

_"Now listen here, boy... I am your father, but more than that, I am your superior. I feed you, I clothe you, I put a roof over your ungrateful head. What do I ask in return for all this generosity?"_

_Ryden didn't answer, keeping his face carefully blank and counting the cracks in the wall behind Malcolm's head. If he was very still and very quiet, his father would merely go off on a tangent._

_Usually._

_One... two... three..._

_"My livelihood - my lifeblood - is this game. I took you under my wing, I taught you what I knew! I-"_

_Four... five... six..._

_"-ungrateful, spoiled leech! You take my time and my money, but refuse to partake properly in the con that puts food in your belly. When I was your age-"_

_Seven... eight..._

_"Do you understand me, boy? There will be no more second chances. If you ever pull a stunt like that again, you'll find yourself out of the house and on the streets faster than you can say 'I'm sorry'."_

_Ryden met his father's eyes slowly, the raging fire in them making his stomach tighten in fear. "Yes sir, Papa. I understand." Malcolm held his gaze still, taking a big step towards him._

_"I don't think you do, son." He cocked his head and Ryden swallowed down the panic that crept up his throat. "I think perhaps more punishment is needed."_

_"I'll take whatever punishment you decide to give me sir," his voice was level, even as his heart raced so loud he could hardly hear the words he was saying. "But I do understand."_

_No he didn't. The conning and scheming always left him with a nauseous stomach and sweaty palms. But the worst..._

_The worst was when they thanked them. When their eyes filled with tears at Malcolm's "generosity", their hands trembling as they clutched his._

_Ryden chanced another glance into his father's eyes, seeing the simmering anger there...but also something else. Something that made him think he might get out of this after all._

_"Get the tools from the van," Malcolm said finally, turning away from him and running one greasy hand through his hair. "I want them polished until I can see every individual speck of green in my eyes. And then you can scrub out the van."_

_Ryden nodded, feeling like he'd just run a marathon and the finish line was right in front of him. "Yes sir," hating the breathy quality of his voice, Ryden cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes sir. Right away sir."_

_Malcolm's eyes narrowed, "I want you to remember something, Ryden," and that definitely got his attention, he was never Ryden. He was "boy" or he was "son". Sometimes he was "m'boy", but only very rarely. He was never Ryden. "Your mother left. She never wanted you, son. I did. No mater what you may think of me, I stayed."_

_Unsure how to respond, Ryden settled on nodding. Malcolm's shoulders dropped and he waved a hand in clear dismissal. "The tools, boy. And the van."_

_"Yes sir."_

_Malcolm left, his bedroom door slamming behind him. The frame groaned in protest, a single spiderweb crack tracing along the wall. The pent up tension left Ryden's body in the form of a sigh, his arms wrapped protectively around himself. "Nine."_

It was raining. Not that Ryden particularly cared about that, but the small detail made him start just a bit. The water was cold, freezing actually, where the droplets raced down his skin and dripped off of him. "Did you lie?"

Malcom Gold's headstone did not respond, the stark gray letters of his name declaring his death for all to see. His throat felt tight.

"Did you _lie_?"

The one truth in his life - the one constant - was that his mother had never wanted him. That was the only sure fact that had stayed with him, the first real memory he could latch onto. Her face was lost in a swirl of images, her voice lost to thousands of others.

But she was always there, doing what she did best: not being there.

Malcolm had been a conman but in a twisted sort of way, Ryden had trusted him when he'd said she never wanted him.

Amelia Danvers said she hadn't seen her son in twenty years.

Twenty years ago, Ryden had moved to the states.

The headstone said nothing. Ryden let out a noisy breath, nails digging hard into his palm.

Malcolm Gold was a conman, he'd never hidden that from Ryden, and still he'd fallen for it. " _Did you lie?!_ " That was all he wanted to know, the only time he'd ever talked back - even after the man had died. "I'll believe you. I just-did you?"

His body slumped forward, but something caught him. Arms around his middle and a deep breath in told him that he was being held by vanilla and book pages, wet curls tickling his numb neck. How the hell she'd managed to find him, he didn't know.

He didn't care.

"Belle," her name was spoken through a wet sob, a barrier inside of him snapping at long last. "He lied, didn't he?"

A kiss against the top of his head, a scalding tear splashing against his arm. His or hers, he wasn't sure. "I'm sorry. I'm here and I love you. I'm so sorry." Her fingers were running through his hair soothingly, her lips pressing against his cheeks and forehead.

Her fingers ran over his back, up his neck, and gently pulled him back to look at her. "It's raining and freezing, Ry. I need you to come to the car with me, sweetheart. Can you do that?"

On wobbly legs, he stood, leaning heavily against her. Amelia stood a few feet away, an awed and hopeful expression on her face. No, not Amelia. Not Miss Danvers.

His mother.

Belle met her eyes and shook her head, pulling Ryden's head onto her shoulder, letting him nuzzle into her warmth. "Not right now," her throat vibrated as she spoke, making Ryden frown. "Give him some time. I'll call you, okay?"

His mother nodded, her face fell in dejection but she still smiled a little. He wanted to say something but his voice wasn't working, his throat felt clogged and his mind was unpleasantly full and heavy.

Belle led him away from the grave, settling him in the car and slipping into the drivers seat.

"Don't leave." They we're sitting in a car, but Ryden didn't care. He needed that reassurance, that promise. "Please, Belle. Don't leave."

Her hand cupped his cheeks, her nose gently brushing his lips as they drew the same breath.

"Never."


	11. Selfless...Sort of

"I'm sorry, Belle." She kept her eyes of the road, but Ryden saw her gaze flicker to him for half a second.

He shifted farther down into his seat and scowled as he caught his own reflection in the mirror. Hiding in a bread pantry as a kid was one thing. Understandable if not excusable. But having a full on panic attack for no reason? He was truly pathetic.

"I don't know what came over me, Belle. I just-" Ryden stopped himself, not allowing the excuse to pass his tightly closed lips. Belle deserved better than him. She had when they were kids, but this was different. He was holding her back from living a full and complete life and that was _unacceptable_. It was time to take a page out of Belle's book and be selfless.

He just wished it didn't feel quite so much like the life was being sucked out of him. "Belle, I..." Ryden smoothed his hands over the damp fabric of his jeans and forced himself to breath normally. He could do this. For Belle, he could do anything. "I really think that we should talk." The car swerved slightly at his words and Ryden cursed himself. Could he do nothing right?

"Ry, that doesn't sound very promising, sweetheart." Her gaze was trained on the road but Ryden heard the way her voice quivered slightly. He didn't want to hurt her, he'd rather _die_ than hurt her. But he didn't know how he was supposed to say what needed to be said. How to tell her how much better off she was without him.

Gregory Gaston had been right, all those months ago. He was holding Belle back...but no more. He would let her go, for her sake. She'd understand eventually, how much better off she was without him. Maybe one day they could be friends again. The thought was a happy one, so why did it feel like he was dying inside?

They were slowing down and Ryden frowned. There was still another twenty miles to go. "Belle..." he looked behind them, trying to see if they been pulled over. There was no police car. Or any car, for that matter. "What's going on?" Belle pulled over and completely stopped the car.

She cut off the engine and turned to face him, unbuckling both of their seat belts. "You've got that look on your face. The one that doesn't bode well. Talk to me, Ry."

"It's nothing, Belle. I'm just...thinking. A lot."

Her lips touched his temple softly. "What are you thinking about?"

Ryden's heart cracked in his chest. She would never leave him. But that was exactly the problem. Belle would stay with him and be miserable and eventually grow to resent him. He needed her. It was an expression, Ryden knew, but not for him. He _needed_ Belle. And that was why he had to let her go. She'd understand eventually, she'd...

"Ryden. Talk to me." Not only had she called him by his whole name  but her voice had gotten sharper too, losing some of the comfortable edge. "I can _see_ your mind racing, Ryden. Let me in."

He slid down a little more and refused to make eye contact. There was no way he could say what needed to be said if he looked into those swirling blue galaxies. "I've been thinking about us." Not the best lead up, but the way she tensed next to him assured him that she knew what he was about to say.

He was going to be sick.

"I don't think it'll work. You're perfect!" Because he needed her to know that no matter what, she'd done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. He was the one who couldn't deal with the demons of his past. "But I'm not. And you deserve-"

"Shut up." Her voice was oddly flat and emotionless. Ryden swallowed and forced himself to continue. Maybe if she hated him, it would hurt her less. He'd _gladly_ take all the pain.

"You deserve to have a life with someone who you're not constantly having to pull from the shadows. You deserve-"

"Shut up!" Her hand grabbed his jaw, forcing him to meet her furious glare. "Listen very carefully Ryden Gold, because I'm only going to say this once. My life is my choice, my decisions are my own. I don't need anybody - not you or Greg or _anybody_ \- telling me what I do not deserve in the life that no one but me has to live. I love you, with everything that I am or I hope to be. I love you, Ryden."

She let go for his face completely and pulled away from him, sitting with her hands crossed over her lap. "Do you want to be with me? I will not force you to stay in this relationship if you're not happy but-"

"No!" Ryden cried out, shaking his head rapidly. "No, Belle. I love you more than life itself but I'm no good for you. I'll never be normal. I'll never be free of the voices in my head and you deserve..." he blinked as he remembered what she'd just said. "I don't want to end up resenting me because I'm a burden to you."

Belle let her head fall against the steering wheel with a soft _thunk_. "You're not a burden Ry. You're my best friend and the love of my life. Nothing will change that, I promise," she turned her head to look at him a little. "But if you ever do something like that again, I will end you. Nobody gets to make choices about my life but me, understand?"

He nodded vigorously. "Yes! Sorry, Belle. I was just trying...I'm sorry."

She cupped his cheek in her hand and darted in for a quick kiss, then restarted the engine. "Do you have a less ridiculous thought to share or can we go home now?"

Ryden huffed out a shaky laugh. "Home? Please." She held his gaze for what felt like an eternity before she gave him a little nod. 

Without another word Belle pulled back onto the street and drove.


	12. Flashbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little fluffy piece that doesn't necessarily add to the plot, but is really fluffy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kindleheartzyou, who I'm sure didn't think that I would actually do this. XD

_"It's beautiful out here, Ry." Belle leaned closer to him and let out a quiet little breath that made his heart skip a beat as it raced in his chest._

_Ryden was in love. And while he wasn't entirely sure exactly what love felt like, the scent of Belle and the taste of the hot chocolate that still clung to the sides of his mouth was probably a good a guess as any. He knew that he wanted to protect her the way that she protected him from the shadows, he knew he wanted to hold her hand and kiss her cheek like he saw other boys do in school or on the TV. His face warmed at the thought and Ryden was glad that it was too dark outside for Belle to really see him because there would be no way for him to explain the way his cheeks were reddening._

_"Don't you think it's beautiful out here?" She turned to face him, her hair shifting and the subtle scent of vanilla floated out from her tied back curls. Ryden swallowed hard._

_Even in the dim moonlight he could make out each shade of blue in her bottomless eyes and he was once again struck by how easily that gaze could drown him. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked at him and Ryden finally tore his gaze away from her, casting a fleeting glance up at the sky._

_If he was being entirely honest, it looked dull. Sure the stars were pretty, but Belle was beautiful. They winked and shone, white hot and unbearably bright against the dark canvas of the sky, but they were no match for the twinkle in Belle's eyes. Stargazing was a fun way to pass time, but it didn't leave him disoriented and feeling lost in the very best way possible. An unexpected glimpse of the moon didn't leave him strangely breathless and in a complete state of hushed awe._

_"Ry..." her sweet voice was laced with worry and that snapped him out of his foolish daze faster than any bucket of ice water could. Belle's fingertips gently grazed his cold cheek as she pressed the back of her small hand against his forehead. "You feel a little warm. Do we need to go inside?"_

_"No," he denied immediately, shaking his head for emphasis. Going inside would destroy the elaborate daydream he'd concocted and Ryden wasn't ready for that yet. For now, even if only to himself, Belle saw him as more than her pathetically clingy friend. The light in her eyes was for him, and soon she'd take her hand from his forehead and interlace their fingers and let him kiss her cheek. A beautiful fantasy. "No, I'm okay Belle. I promise."_

_She didn't seem convinced and he was careful not to let his inner turmoil show. He'd never force her to do something that she didn't want to do, but he was so warm with Belle. He was warm and safe and wanted. The beautiful girl staring at him now would never - could never - see him the same way he saw her, perfect in every sense of the word, beautiful inside and out, but that hardly mattered when he was close enough to smell the scent of vanilla and almonds and something that belonged to Belle alone._

_If this was meant to be his motivation to keep soldiering on at home, Ryden thought he ought to get Malcolm Gold a thank you card. Every bit of pain was instantly nullified the very moment he saw Belle. Her friendship was all that he could ever have, but it was more than he'd ever wanted. Eventually she'd find a boy who got to hold her hand and kiss her cheek whenever he wanted and she'd look at him the way Ryden looked at her and that hurt._

_Ryden took a long swallow of hot chocolate and willed his mind to be blind to everything except the taste. Someday she'd leave, and someday long after that, he'd find a way to be okay with her departure._

_"You're right," he said at last, laughing when she beamed at him. Her eyes were soft and caring and these were the dangerous moments. She was close, entirely too close, and three little words clogged up the back of his throat. It was completely ridiculous. They were only sixteen and she no doubt saw him as a brother of sorts. To wish it were different was a waste of his time and sure to lead only to heartache. "It's absolutely beautiful out here."_

_Her hand slipped down until she cupped his cheek loosely. "I've always loved the stars, they stories they tell us, the paths they light," she leaned closer for half a second and the world froze. Smell and sound was lost to Ryden as he looked directly into her eyes, his Achilles heel. And taste..._

_Would she taste of hot chocolate and marshmallows? Or that barely obvious smell of vanilla that always seemed to surround her? Her lips were less than two inches from his, red and inviting. He could kiss her. Say all the words his useless mouth couldn't with his lips and make her understand the depths of his feelings for her. He could. And Belle would hate him for it. Things that looked good in dark often withered away in the light and Ryden wouldn't lose her._

_Her sweet breath fanned his face and he slowly pulled away from her magnetic field. He saw the way her eyes flashed for a moment before she giggled softly and pulled away herself, an acceptable distance between them now. The words were back, banging at his lips and burning his throat, demanding their release. Ryden swallowed them back down with another sip of cocoa._

_Belle's smile widened. "Look, Ry," she called his attention back to the sky and he frowned in confusion before a streak of light shot through the shimmering stars. "Make a wish."_  
  
_Her eyes closed and Ryden watched as her lips moved quickly but silently, not a single sound coming out. His chest ached with longing. To be a Belle's friend was a privilege, but to be more would be a dream come true._

_He closed his eyes. Belle sat next to him, but she was so unbelievably of reach. He wanted her, but he didn't deserve her - or rather, she deserved much better than him. His eyes burned and he clenched his fingers together, picturing a life with Belle. It was so real that he could almost see the way her eyes lit up as he told her how much she meant to him, he could feel her lips against his, the smooth and comfortable weight of his wedding ring._

_The sound of their child's laugh._

_A beautiful, heartbreaking dream. The only thing he wanted for his entire life. Ryden would endure Malcolm's beatings without a breath of complaint, the gut wrenching knowledge that he hadn't been enough for his mother without protest. He'd relive his nightmares and let his reality cook up new ones to add. As long as he had Belle, he could do anything._

_So Ryden wished._

"And what exactly are we doing here?" Ryden queried, leaning farther forward and tilting his head to the side in confusion. Since their fight about him trying to give her what she deserved had ended, Ryden was at a loss.

According to Belle, she was taking them home. He'd agreed and happily sat back, then she'd taken an unnecessary turn and they were now parked in front of the woods. "We're going to that little clearing."

An open field in the middle of the woods was hardly their home. Unless of course she wanted it to be. Ryden would happily sleep in the dirt and dried mud as long as Belle was asleep next to him. Still though, their bed was far more comfortable.

"Belle I'm confused, what are we..." her fingers pressed gently over his lips, silencing him. She held his surprised gaze for a long few seconds, then carefully retracted her hand.

"Just follow me, Ry." She caught the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth, lowing her voice to a soft whisper. "You trust me, don't you?" Ryden relaxed completely at her question, fixing her with a hopeless smile.

"Of course I do, Belle." More than he trusted himself on most days. She was his anchor. His rock. The very beat of his heart, the air in his lungs. Trust, in comparison, seemed like such a small thing. Belle was his world. How could he had ever thought he could live without her?

She smiled and darted in for a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Then follow me. Without question." So he did.

They had only been walking for a few minutes when Ryden started to recognize some of the landscape surrounding them. Flashes of another life shot through him, sharp and fast like a bullet. A boy just barely becoming a man, sixteen, unbearable longing. And a girl, an angel sent to walk among those less worthy, indescribably beautiful. Ryden stopped walking.

"Belle..." he looked into her eyes, falling all over again, drowning and sinking. He never _ever_ wanted to come up for air. "Is this..." It was, it _had_ to be. These almost forgotten memories wouldn't be hurtling at him with the speed of a freight train if it wasn't. Her answer was a slow and deliberate twirl of her index finger, indicating that she wanted him to turn around. Ryden obeyed without hesitation.

He could see them now, sitting together under the stars and drinking hot chocolate. The little glances that he thought he'd surely imagined were now plain as day, as was the tension was heavy between them. As it had always been, both of them too blind or too afraid to act on the inevitable.

"I wanted you to kiss me so much," her voice came from behind him, soft and almost trance like. Ryden wondered if she could see them too. _He_ saw it now, so clear and obvious that it was hard to believe he'd ever missed it. But he had.

"Yeah?" He asked just as softly, dazed and dumbstruck. It was all too easy to fall back into the routine of not getting too close, not holding on too tight. The hopeless impossibility of not falling too hard. Fallen he had, and he hadn't stopped since. No doubt hitting the bottom would hurt, so Ryden hoped that he never stopped falling. Her hand slipped into his, their fingers lacing together.

"Right there," she pointed to where the teenagers still sat, breathing the same air and looking into each other's eyes. Ryden watched himself break the moment. "I saw you coming closer and thought, here we go. We're finally going to kiss." The teenagers faded away and Ryden looked down at Belle in bewilderment.

"Finally?" The word implied that she'd been waiting for it, for something he was sure she didn't want. Had she fantasized kissing his cheek or holding his hand? Resting her head on his lap as he read to her? Saying those three little words that would change absolutely everything? Words that were safe when apart, but together could cause wars. And for Belle?

Ryden would be the first to sign up to battle.

"Yes finally, Ry." She lifted her hand with a little smile, pressing the backs of her fingers lightly against his forehead. Her gaze never wavered as her hand slipped lower to cradle his cheek and this time he was ready. His lips covered hers and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

His own hands went to her waist as he pulled her to him, taking advantage of her little moan to deepen the kiss. She tasted like vanilla and cinnamon, sweet and spicy. But there was something there, something else that he could only define as _Belle_. It was sweet and soft and safe. It was the calm after a storm, the healing after a tragedy. Something utterly unique and irreplaceable and addicting. So, so _addicting_. He opened his eyes and slowly gentled the kiss, indulging in the other sense he'd neglected that night.

Her eyes were still closed and her brow was furrowed slightly. He could see the flush on her cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell rapidly with her quick breathing. But this...this was his favorite part...

Belle's eyes fluttered open slowly, the breathtaking blue a little hazy and unfocused. Those three words fought their way up and Ryden let them out without a second thought. "I love you." The dazed look cleared a bit and Belle beamed at him.

"I love you too, Ry." She nuzzled closer into him and Ryden was just about to let his eyes close when a flash of light caught his attention. And then another.

"Belle," he slowly pushed her away and gestured up at the sky. "Shooting star." Her eyes lit up and she giggled.

"Make a wish, Ry!"

He watched in amusement as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut again, her smile never faltering. Each little flash of light illuminated some other perfect detail about her, from the miles of leg to the tumbling curls atop her head. How could he possibly make a wish? His had already come true.

Instead he stared intently at the sky and when the next star shot across Ryden whispered, "Thank you."


	13. His Mother

His hands were shaking.

And though he tried his very best to hide it, there was no mistaking the tremors that wracked him. Ryden cursed. It had become abundantly clear to him over the past few months how very little he deserved Belle. Of course he'd been her friend and her confidant, gladly bearing any burden of hers he could, but that alone shouldn't have won him her heart. He wasn't worthy of it.

Like everything in his life, he would eventually taint her. Because that's what he did. Ryden was under no illusion when it came to how little he was worth—to himself, at least. He wouldn't dare try and speak for Belle, not even in the guaranteed privacy of his mind. Not again. The last time he'd tried that… well the end result hadn’t been too bad actually, ending with a full blown make out session after she'd thoroughly scolded him for telling her what she did and didn't deserve, but it wasn't something to be repeated.

The cold fury in her eyes had followed him into his dreams, the ending there _far_ less pleasant. Besides, the last thing Ryden wanted was for Belle to feel like he was an emotional sponge, feeding on her validation and praise until she was hollow and empty, resenting him for the light he'd stolen. He shuddered and took a long sip of the iced tea in front of him. No, he wouldn't let that happen.

For some reason known only to Belle, she loved him. Her heart—beautiful and pure as Belle herself—was his. Perhaps one day he would actually deserve all the unfailing support and love that she selflessly gifted him with. Perhaps he could actually be worthy of her.

“Not bloody likely,” Ryden breathed, running an agitated hand over his face. Though thoughts of Belle would never leave him, he forced himself to push them to the side. For now, at least.

Amelia Danvers. His client turned mother. How the hell did he always manage to find himself in the center of these situations? Ryden groaned.

He was a walking disaster.

If he were stronger, he would've moved on from this pain long ago. The reminder that his mother had left wouldn't feel like a white hot stake being stabbed through his heart. It wouldn't still matter that he hadn't been enough to stick around for. Ryden knew—oh, did he know—the dark side of Malcolm's temper. So he could forgive her for fleeing, encourage it even, but leaving him behind? Stuck with that drunken, abusive, wreck as a _father_? To be raised as a con artist? Had he ruined her life so much that he too, wee a lad as he'd been, deserved to be punished? Though he supposed that was the point of this meeting, to find out why. Or even if.

Bloody hell.

Even now he was still trying to give Malcolm the benefit of the doubt. Because the alternative was that his mother hadn't left, he'd been actually wanted by one of his parents, and Malcolm had done his job. He'd lied. And that made him even worse than the pathetic excuse for a father that he was. It made him a _demon_. Because for Ryden to have grown up thinking that he was unloved and unlovable when half a world away a mother had been looking for her son—how was he supposed to accept that? How could he move on from it if the only person who deserved his fury was six feet under?

“Ry?” He didn't even look up, coward that he was. His emotions were flipping back and forth, dangerously unstable, and _for once_ he wanted to be strong in front of her. Even if it was only a pretty lie. “Sweetheart are you okay?” He didn't deserve her.

“I'm okay,” a lie. Ryden was a far away from _okay_ that it was no longer in sight. “Just wanted to get here early, y’know? Before…everything.” That at least was the truth, his plan had been to gather his thoughts and plan what he wanted to say. Not that he'd accomplished any of that.

Belle smiled. “Yeah. That was the plan, actually. For you to show up early so we could talk.” Without breaking eye contact, she slid into the booth, sitting across from him. Her hands immediately latched onto his, as if she needed him like he needed her. A laughable thought.

“Thank you, Belle.” Even if he didn't plan to do any talking, for now at least, the notion warmed him. Once again she was putting him first, and Ryden was useless.

Her fingers tightened around his. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Please just _talk_ to me,” he tried to pull his hand back, keep up the walls that were protecting her as much as they were protecting him, but Belle was having none of it. “Do we really have to do this again?” Ryden froze, horror threatening to choke him as he saw tears forming in her eyes.

What had he _done_?

“Don't… Belle _please_ don’t cry,” the request was for himself as well, the sight of her tears making him feel sick. She should never cry. And the fact that her tears were his fault was like a lead ball in his stomach. “I'm sorry, love. I’m so sorry. Don't cry.” His desperate whimper had attracted a few stares from the other diner patrons, but he didn't care.

Belle drew a shaky breath. “You're shutting me out Ryden. It's like every time I try and get close to you, I get shoved back! And I get it Ry. You're hurting and it tears me apart because all I want to do is help you, be there for you, and you won't let me. I used to be the first person you went to when you needed _anything_ and now? Now I have to beg you tell me what's going on.”

He was an idiot. A fool of the worst kind. While he'd been seeing it as protecting her from more of his demons, she seen it as being pushed away. “Losing you is my biggest fear,” and that got her attention, watery blue eyes focused solely on him. For Belle, he could be brave. “I don't know how to deal with all of this… with Ame—my mother and the fact that my father might've lied and…” Ryden swallowed harshly and looked up, silently pleading for her understanding. Because he didn't deserve her, but he needed her. He _needed_ her. “I just didn't want to lose you once you realized how weak I really am.”

There it was. The complete and utter truth, his beating heart lying on the table in between them. She could break it with a single word, destroy him within the time span of a single beat. Ryden held his breath.

“My love isn't conditional, Ry. I won't stop loving you because you have a lot of emotional baggage. I won't ever stop loving you. We could break up—“ and at his no doubt terrified look, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed each of his fingers. “—we _could_ break up, and I'd still love you. That won't change. And you're not weak.” He immediately tried to protest that, but she lifted a single eyebrow. Ryden closed his mouth so fast his teeth clicked together.

“Ryden?” He looked up to the front of the diner, seeing his mother shifting her weight back and forth. Using Belle’s tight grip on his hand to gather his courage, he gave her a hesitant smile and beckoned her closer. Belle moved quickly and slid into the booth next to him, leaving his mother the spot Belle had just vacated.

“Hello,” he said softly, offering the only olive branch he could. The sound she made was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, wet sounding and full of emotion.

“Hi…” she sat up a little straighter and looked at him with wide, wet eyes. “Look at you. You're so handsome…” tears spilled from her overflowing eyes, dripping soundlessly onto the table. “My little boy.”

Ryden swallowed and breathed out slowly. “I don't know what happened, that day. Malcolm told me—“ a sob bubbled up in his chest, a painful lump that constricted his breathing. He swallowed it down with effort. “He told me that you left. Now I need you to tell me what happened. When I asked for details, he couldn't give me any. Said it happened too long ago. What about you?”

Her eyes darkened. “Oh no, Ryden. I remember _exactly_ what happened.” When she caught his gaze, her entire body seemed to deflate. Her eyes watered again. “Where do you want me to start?”

He wanted to hear everything. Wanted to know exactly what happened, why she married Malcolm in the first place, her reaction to being pregnant—Malcolm's reaction to her being pregnant—the plan, what her life was like, if she missed him after she left... but that was too much. And there was one thing he _needed_ to know. “Tell me about that day. What happened?”

Much like before, her eyes darkened. The grief radiating off of her was palpable and Ryden could feel it as it hit him in waves. Her eyes were locked on his, but she seemed very far away.

“It was two weeks after your third birthday…” 


	14. The Truth Will Set You Free

_**Twenty one years earlier**_ : 

“Ryden, Ryden, my little boy, my pride and joy.” Amelia stopped, letting her singing trail off, looking down at the drowsy toddler in her arms. “We're getting out of here, Ryden. I promise.” Malcolm would no longer have a say about it. She was leaving—and taking Ryden with her. If she was being entirely honest, Amelia couldn't remember why she'd married Malcolm in the first place. The man she'd known—soft blue eyes, untamable curiosity and bottomless desire for better, better than what he had—was gone now. Or maybe he'd never existed in the first place. But if that was the case, then she'd married a stranger.

Amelia shuddered, hugging Ryden just a little tighter. That wasn't something she wanted to think about

Malcolm had been a hurricane in her life, disrupting her parents carefully crafted plan for her future and sending her spiraling from her neat and tidy routine. He was dangerous and charming and cunning and Amelia had fallen head over heels the second their gazes locked. She was stable, he was reckless. She was rich, he was poor. But the moment those blue eyes caught hers, Amelia had been gone. Of course he'd done the stereotypical “wooing” with flowers, chocolates, fancy dates—and in return she'd given up everything to be with him. Her friends, her parents support, the luxury… everything.

Their love hadn't been a slow burning affair. They'd both fallen hard and damn near immediately. It was like a blissful sort of drunken happiness, seemingly impossible, but it was real. Unbelievable as it may have been, it was real.

They'd been happy. They'd been _so_ happy.

Which is why everything that came after was horribly unfair.

Malcolm started scheming. He used his wits and his charm—the very things that she'd fallen so quickly for—and conned people out of their money. An unfinished paint job here, a faulty wiring job there. The people he attacked—and yes, attacked was the only word suitable for what he did—were always desperate. There was always something, some big external conflict, that made them take leave of their senses and agree to pay part up front. Half when he started, half when he finished. It made Malcolm rich.

It made Amelia sick.

Truthfully, she'd been ready to leave. So ready to leave. Braving the streets didn't seem any worse than living with a con artist. Bags had been packed… then the universe threw her a curveball. Not only a curveball, but one she hadn't been prepared for… one that derailed all thoughts of leaving.

She was pregnant.

And alone.

Since she'd chosen Malcolm over them, her parents had all but disowned her. No friends of her own, only the ones she and Malcolm shared. Pregnant and alone… but taken care of. Very well taken care of. This child, be it a girl or a boy, would never have any sense of security. Amelia was willing—more than willing—to face that life herself, but her baby? She had no way to provide for it!

So she'd been forced to stay. Unpack each and every bag, put the suitcases back in the attic and spent the rest of the day in bed. Being pregnant should have been exciting! She should've been bouncing from the walls and waiting eagerly to rush into Malcolm's arms. It was how she'd always pictured it, after all. Instead she felt empty.

Cold even.

Because though she'd always wanted to have a baby with Malcolm, the Malcolm she thought she'd known apparently never existed. Or maybe had gotten lost over the years. Regardless, she'd fallen for an adventurer, not a con artist.

She told Malcolm the news the next day.

He was happy, if not thrilled. In the beginning at least. But as her pregnancy progressed and she started getting sick in the mornings, he was home less and less. Off scheming she knew. But her child deserved security. So Amelia bit her tongue to the point of pain to smother all of her remarks when he left, said nothing when he returned home. Her life became defined by routine, dull and repetitive.

Then Ryden was born. Her perfect little boy.

Amelia had felt pride before. In school she'd had the best grades, the most thorough presentations, the coolest friends. Hell, at one point she'd even been proud to be on Malcolm's arm, regardless of his social status. But none of those fleeting moments had prepared her for this. Ryden was smart and kind, patient and caring. The young woman who occasionally babysat him adored him, her face lighting up at the sight of his little form.

She'd never been so proud—never known it was possible to feel pride like this. Malcolm may bring home most of the money, but Amelia would raise a gentlemen. Ryden would know unconditional love, unending support. He would never feel like he was alone.

And then yesterday she'd gotten a phone call.

At first Amelia hadn't been sure why the babysitter was calling her while she was at work but then the words “Ryden is gone” had stopped her heart. That wasn't possible! She'd left him with Malcolm.

Malcolm.

By the time she made it out to her car she'd already called him twenty times, not getting through. The pure and unyielding panic Amelia had felt still caused her throat to close up.

However when she'd pulled into their driveway… Ryden was beaming at her, waving enthusiastically.

His little cheeks were splattered with paint drops, shoes scuffed and muddy. In the five seconds it'd taken her to fling herself out of her car and yank him into her arms, a horrible realization had crossed her mind. One she absolutely refused to believe until Malcolm stepped into view, the same color paint staining his shirt and hands.

“You used our son?” She kept her voice low and calm, still clutching Ryden tight in her arms. He smelled like paint, sharp and metallic.

Malcolm had grinned, holding out his arms to her. Had he really not comprehended what had just happened? The excitement in his eyes had made Amelia's stomach churn in disgust.

“He was a natural, Amelia! You should've seen the way he listened, so eager to please. They payed three quarters in advance! Three quarters. With that kind of money...”

Amelia had swallowed a mouthful of bile. “If you ever use him again I will kill you.” She'd held his gaze as his eyes widened, then repeated slowly, “If you ever use our son again I will _kill_ you, Malcolm.”

"But dove…”

She didn't let him finish, lifting Ryden up and pushing past him, intent on scrubbing the smell of paint from him. They were leaving. Not right now, not while he was still here. Tomorrow.

They shouldn't have stayed to begin with.

Which brought Amelia to now. It wasn't safe for Ryden, and he was what mattered. She would take whatever hand she was dealt. “I'm getting you out of here, my Ryden.” He gave a sleepy grumble, damp hair rubbing against her shoulder.

A soft knock startled her.

Malcolm stood in the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets as he regarded her warily. White hot anger surged though her in a wave leaving her furious and shaking. Ryden whimpered in her arms.

“Is uh…” Malcolm cleared his throat, swallowing so thickly that Amelia could see his Adam's apple bob. “Is he okay?” Her jaw worked in silent anger, staring at him in disbelief.

“He's fine! He doesn't understand—doesn't comprehend the magnitude of what he did. Of what you _made_ him do.” Malcolm wet his lips.

“I didn't think—“

Amelia barked out a laugh, lowering her voice when Ryden stirred a little. “Something we can finally agree on. You didn't think. He's a child, Malcolm! And you're a…” she shrank back, realizing that whatever she said next wouldn't matter. Malcolm wasn't the only one to blame in this situation. She'd known. “He's a boy, Malcolm. Just a boy.”

“Why do I get the feeling that this can't be fixed?” He was suddenly desperate then, his body shaking as he lowered himself to her feet. “I know things have been strained lately but…” Amelia didn't even have to cut him off, watching as his lips moved silently. He already knew.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled Ryden closer, drawing strength from him. “I think we should get a divorce. We _need_ to get a divorce.” Something dark and hopeless flashed in his eyes as he doubled over, grabbing at his chest.

“Amelia…”

“My decision has been made, Malcolm. This is a long time coming.” Any soft feelings she might've had left for him evaporated the moment she saw Ryden stained with paint. Malcolm however looked as if this was news to him, still doubled over. “I'm tired. Think I'm going to go to sleep.”

He still didn't move, curled up on the floor of Ryden’s bedroom.

“Malcolm, I'm tired. We can… we can talk in the morning.” He looked up at her, nodding and dragging himself up. Something had changed in that instant, but Amelia couldn't tell what. It hardly mattered though, not since he'd left without so much as a backwards glance.

Amelia stretched out across Ryden’s bed, letting the feeling of his little body curled up in her arms soothe her to sleep.

The biggest mistake of her life.

Because when she'd woken up, Ryden was gone. And the heavy feeling in her heart that she ignored even as her feet pounded down the stairs, told her all she needed to know. Malcolm's van was gone. Breathing heavily she raced back upstairs, flinging open Ryden’s closet door and falling to the floor at the sight of the bare shelves.

A single picture frame had been shoved in the back of the closet, her and Ryden beaming at the camera. But that wasn't what caught her attention. There, tucked in the very corner of the frame, a little slip of paper… two words—

_I’m sorry_.

  



	15. Guilty Conscience

She couldn't meet his eyes. For all that she deserved the scorn and hatred that she'd no doubt see for failing him so greatly, Amelia couldn't bear it. She'd rather be hit by a speeding car than hear from Ryden himself how horrible she was. Only, he wasn't yelling as she'd anticipated. For all that she had planned this moment countless times… nothing had happened.

Forcing herself to be brave, she looked up at him slowly.

Brown eyes were boring holes into her face, his mouth set in a tight line. Beside him the woman—Belle, Amelia remembered—was clutching his hand tightly, tears falling from her eyes as she swung her gaze between the both of them.

“You're lying.” His voice was choked and soft. He finally looked directly into her eyes, lips trembling. “You're—you have to be lying!” A tiny sob escaped from him and Amelia felt like she was about to fall apart completely. She'd made him cry. Not only had she failed him as a mother, but now she'd made him upset. Could she do _nothing_ right?

“I-I swear to you Ryden, I'm not lying! That day—it was the worst day of my life. You were gone and I just…” Amelia swallowed a whimper, pure and utter helplessness filling her. He hated her, which she'd known would happen, but it still hurt. Far from feeling better after seeing her little boy, it was worse. Much worse. Because he _wasn't_ her little boy. “Did he take care of you?” The question caught them both off guard.

It hadn't been what she'd meant to ask, but in that moment she realized it was all she needed to know. Amelia had failed her son, but if Malcolm had taken care of him she could move on. The wound wasn't one that would ever heal, but perhaps time would numb it. “Did he take care of you? Were you safe and happy and _loved_?” That's all she needed. Just that little bit of reassurance.

For a second he seemed to be looking through her, then his lips curled into a smile that made her feel… off. A smile that screamed “I'm fake!” but then again, how was she to know? She didn't know Ryden at all. Mr Gold she was familiar with, but Ryden was a stranger. Still though, his eyes darkened in an emotion that Amelia couldn't decipher.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, that same unsettling smile on his lips. “Yeah, it was—it was fine. He'd always said that you just… left.” His eyes locked with hers again, softer this time. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but the sharpness in his gaze was gone.

“He took care of you?” Because she had to be absolutely positive that's what he was saying. The encompassing guilt was still crushing her heart, but if Malcolm had been a decent father, then maybe the iron grip would loosen a bit. And maybe she'd let it.

Ryden’s mouth opened and closed, the muscles of his throat moving as he swallowed. A single nod answered her, then quietly, “Yeah. He did.”

A relieved sigh rattled her chest, making her lightheaded. “Good. That's—that's good.” She hated Malcolm with every fiber of her being, but Ryden at least had been safe and taken care of. For that alone she was grateful.

“A-Are you hungry?” He asked suddenly, making her jump in surprise. He licked his lips and gestured vaguely to the diner they were sitting in. “It's a diner. Granny's. If you want we could—“

“Yes!”

Ryden jumped in surprise just as she had at her sudden outburst, but then he smiled just a little. Fragile and shaking, but a whole world more sincere than his previous one. Then he frowned.  

“Can we meet back up at seven? I have to… take care of some stuff. At work.”

Amelia was nodding before he'd finished talking, dangerously close to tears herself. She could think of absolutely nothing better than dinner with her little—with Ryden. He wasn't a little boy, and she certainly hadn't earned the right to call him her son. “Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to. I-I'd really love to.”

Ryden gave her another wavering smile before he stood up, clutching at Belle’s hand like a lifeline. “Thank you for telling me. I look forward getting to know more about you.”

A single teardrop rolled down her cheek. “Yes, me too.”

He smiled at her one last time before tugging on Belle’s hand and disappearing from the diner.

~X~

Amelia could hardly contain her excitement. In just a few short hours she'd sit down with her son and his girlfriend—who Amelia rather liked, actually—and she'd finally get some insight into his life.

It felt almost intrusive to walk into his office building, but she needed to stop _everything_. Amelia couldn't go back in time and erase the stress that she'd put him through these past few weeks, but she could halt anymore.

She wasn't eavesdropping. She was helping.

“I need to speak with Richard Midas.”

Clark blinked uncomprehendingly, then started in recognition. “Miss Danvers! Yes of course!” Hastily he dialed a number, holding the phone to his ear and looking at her nervously. “I-I could speak with him for you, if you'd like?” Amelia shrugged.

What did it matter who Midas spoke to? As long as the ticket was no longer an issue, Amelia didn't care. She listened carefully as Clark explained that she wanted to pay the ticket, yes she was sure, no she wasn't going to change her mind and—the most important part—no, Mr Gold hadn't done anything wrong. It was a relatively short conversation but Clark still looked uneasy.

“I'll tell Mr Gold that his services are no longer required.”

Excitement pulsed through her and she blurted, “I could do it! I'll tell him, I mean.” There was no harm in delivering a message, after all. She'd just tell him herself and then they could talk about the more important stuff over dinner.

Clark frowned. “A-Are you sure, ma'am? It's really no trouble for me to—“

“I'm sure.”

He didn't look convinced but directed her down the long hallway nonetheless, and Amelia was practically bouncing. For all that she'd been drowning in guilt not too long ago, adrenaline was filling her now.

Malcolm Gold would never make her feel anything but hatred and disgust, but he'd taken care of Ryden. Maybe she'd ask for details over dinner. Stories of Christmas’ and birthdays, if Malcolm gave him soup when he was sick. Amelia blinked, her excitement fading as quickly as it had come as her heart quivered in pain. 

Brutally suppressing her emotions, she lifted a hand to knock on the open door. Manners were manners, no matter what.

“You lied to her.” Belle's voice caught her by surprise, the steady drumming of her heart picking up its pace. Obviously they weren't talking about her. Ryden had absolutely nothing to lie about! It was a coincidence.

“I know. But… how was I supposed to tell her?” He sounded dull and lifeless, his voice hollow. Amelia shook her head. No, no. Ryden was fine. _Absolutely_ fine. In just a few short hours they'd be at dinner.

“What do you think would've happened?” Belle again, sounding closer than before. Amelia cursed herself. This wasn't a conversation she was meant to be hearing but she couldn't help it. She'd rather have an ugly truth than a pretty lie and with the way her heart was racing she had a feeling that was exactly what she was about to get.

“She would've killed him, Belle. If he wasn't already dead and I had told her the truth, she would've killed him.”

Amelia's vision blurred over with tears. It was just a misunderstanding! She walked into their conversation and now she was mistaken about what they were saying and—

“Granny almost did. The first time she saw the bruises.”


	16. The Light

Ryden didn't need to turn around to know who the little gasp he'd heard had come from. True, the amount of time he'd spent overall with his mother was relatively slim, her voice had been a sound he immediately memorized.

"Bruises?" Wide brown eyes regarded him first, then Belle, then him again. "B-But you said... I thought... _bruises_?" The stark pain in her voice made something in Ryden's throat tighten. This is what he'd been trying to protect her from.

Gently as he could, Ryden took one of her hands between his own. "Yes. But..." he flickered his eyes over to Belle, his anchor, and let himself smile. "It wasn't your fault." For years he'd tried to blame himself for the abuse that Malcolm dished out. Every black eye was because he'd failed as a son, every busted lip because he wasn't working hard enough.

That wasn't the truth though. Ryden had been blameless in that situation, as was Amelia. As was _his mother._ She'd been used and fooled just as Ryden had been tricked and abused. Their only mistake had lied in trusting the same two-headed snake.

She pulled her hand out of his tight grip and wrapped her arms protectively around her middle. "I failed you, Ryden. Malcolm may have been a bastard, but I failed you." His immediate instinct was to correct her, but then again...

Amelia was his mother. And while Malcolm had never taken blame for anything ever, she was the exact opposite. Meaning she was like him. And an outright denial would fall on deaf ears.

"How did you fail me?" His question seemed to put a sharp halt of the self loathing thoughts no down rushing through her mind, the corners of her lips turning down as she looked at him.

The shadows in her eyes were as clearly visible as the pain, but her voice was even as she spoke. "I let him take you-"

"Did you?" Ryden cut in softly, trying to keep up what he hoped was a gentle smile. In all honesty, his control was slipping rapidly through his fingers... but that was okay, wasn't it? It was okay to be a little broken, because he had people who would put him back together now.

His mother blinked, nodding immediately. "Yes I did! If I would have left sooner we would have..." her eyes filled with confusion as she frowned. Ryden waited. "We would have been homeless." She finished softly.

"Indeed," he agreed. "And probably dead."

"But..." Amelia shook her head slowly, grasping for straws. Ryden knew the feeling. It was so much easier to blame himself, because then at least there was someone to punish. Ryden bet that Amelia felt the same way. Malcolm was already dead. "That's not... I..."

"Did what you had to," he took a little step closer to her. "You were protecting me. That's all you've been trying to do." Her eyes were watering, spilling over with tears that she impatiently wiped away.

"Of course I was," she sniffled and exhaled deeply, blinked away the rest of her tears. "But I still could've-"

"Mom," Ryden said softly - and that definitely did it. Whatever else she was going to say was lost as she snapped her mouth shut, gaping at him in stunned silence. "It's not your fault."

She still looked as if she were about to faint, but she repeated him. "It's not my fault." Her eyes were once again watering and behind him he could hear Belle's quiet sniffles and... well...

There was only one thing left to do, he supposed.

  
Without giving himself time to think about it, Ryden pulled Ame-his mother, into a tight hug. It was different than he'd thought. For all that he and Belle had shared plenty of friendly hugs... this was different than even that.

Her arms tightened around him and pulled him closer, wrapping around his middle and squeezing. She smelled like honey. Unnecessarily, Ryden's heart thumped harshly in a single, painful beat. Images of a childhood he'd never experience - one safe and loving and warm - danced behind his eyes for a moment. It made his chest ache.

"My little boy," she cried against his shoulder, and Ryden clutched her tighter, not fighting the onslaught of tears.

"Mom."

The soft sound of footsteps caught his attention and Ryden watched as Belle crossed the room to his door and gave his cell phone a significant glance, then left, closing the door behind her.

And while his heart was no doubt pounding, his nerves rising and climbing to choke him... it didn't matter. _It didn't matter_.

Because he could breath through it now. He could focus on the smell of honey and the feeling of love - the purest and most open kind of love - radiating from his mother. He was safe and loved.

He was _wanted_.


	17. True Love

Belle bumped Ryden's arm as they walked, allowing his warmth and familiar scent to blanket her. He smelled like cinnamon—sharp and spicy as usual, but there was something else there. Something much softer and subtler that Belle couldn't place. Whatever it was she loved it. She loved everything about Ryden. In front of them Amelia slowed her pace just a little, forcing the two of them to slow down as well.

Immediately Ryden wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him and Belle burrowed into his side with a contented smile. She could feel his heart beating and the sound was more beautiful than any song Belle had ever heard.

Amelia spun in a little circle, gesturing to Storybrooke with wide arms. “It very pretty here, is it not?” Truthfully Belle had stopped noticing the sights that their little town had to offer a long time ago. And while it was objectively a good place to live, the memories held here weren't so good.

The time she'd found Ryden with a split lip and a black eye had forever put a stain over the town in her mind. This town was where Ryden had been hurt. Where Belle had seen him get hurt. But she forced those thoughts away and took a deep breath, truly looking at the small town that she called home.

The air was cool and clean, the smell of fresh baked bread traveling with the wind. Taking a deep breath Belle let the scent wash over her, warm and homey. Across from them the sun was setting behind the hills, the sky painted pink and orange and a darkening blue. Amelia was right. Storybrooke was beautiful.

“Yeah,” Belle agreed, letting her head fall against Ryden's shoulder as she cuddled closer to him. How could she have ever thought she'd be able to watch as he got _married_? She loved him so much it made her chest ache. “Yeah, it really is.” Though privately Belle thought any town that had Ryden would be beautiful. And Amelia, she supposed. The woman reminded her of Ryden, in the way that she was quick to blame herself and hard to get through to. She was family. And when Belle envisioned the perfect world, it wasn't just her and Ryden anymore.

“I've been looking around for properties,” Amelia whispered, looking suddenly nervous. Her eyes were riveted to the setting sun as she absently rubbed her fingers back and forth. Belle smiled at the familiar sight.

Beside her, Ryden cleared his throat quietly. Belle could feel his heart pounding against her ear and she pressed her forehead against his shoulder, letting him draw strength from her. In the weeks since they had all met up for lunch, Ryden had gotten a lot better about speaking up for himself. No longer did he hunch his shoulders and try to hide from everyone, nor did he accept blame for every single problem he faced.

There was a budding confidence in him that made Belle so proud she could hardly stand it. Sometimes though, he retreated just a little. The boy she once knew and still loved took center stage and refused to look out at the audience.

For some reason, this was one of those times.

Ryden drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Amelia was still looking at the fading sunlight, her fingers slowing their agitated rhythm as she visibly shrank.

“I've been looking at properties too.”

Amelia turned so quickly Belle was afraid that she was going to fall, but the other woman merely swayed for a moment before she seemed to get her balance. Then she just stared. The sun had almost fully set now and with the remainder of the light behind Amelia's back, her facial expression was impossible to make out. However the emotion in her voice was unmistakable.

“You have?”

Ryden nodded. “There's a little house about ten minutes from ours, it's a bit on the small side but—“

“It sounds perfect, Ryden. I…” Amelia breathed out slowly, raising a trembling hand to the base of her throat and she exhaled shakily. “Yes. Tomorrow maybe you and Belle could show it to me?” Belle didn't have to look up to see the smile that was no doubt stretched across Ryden's face.

“We’d love to.”

~X~

Belle sighed as Ryden wrapped his arms around her, pressing a long kiss to her head. His chest rose and fell with his steady breathing and she instinctively matched it. "I'm proud of you, Ry."

Tilting her head up so she could see him, Belle stared into his surprised eyes. Unable to resist—and not really wanting to—she kissed him. They had kissed countless times over the past few months, but this was different. This wasn't one of their sweet and chaste kisses like the ones they shared while cooking dinner together, it wasn't a slow and sleepy kiss that was traditional when they woke up in each others arms. It was a combination of all of those kisses and more.

This kiss was sweet and slow, promises being made in the quiet of the room as she tilted her head to give him a better angle. She wanted to give him everything he needed— anything he _wanted_. His fingers brushed over her thighs, skimming the bumps of her spine and then finally—inevitably—wound their way into her hair. Belle let her nails scratch gently at his nape, then she pulled away slowly.

She gave the both of them time to catch their breath for a few moments, her head again pillowed against his chest. When she spoke again it was softer and quieter, conscious of the mood that had wrapped itself around them. 

"I'm serious. You're more confident, more sure of yourself." Belle stayed close enough that Ryden could feel her breath against his lips, their noses barely touching. She could feel his throat move as he swallowed harshly, his arms tightening around her as she made herself more comfortable on his lap.

"It's because of you. For the longest time I was afraid that you would stop loving me because of my screwed up past—" he stopped her involuntary sound of protest with his lips, kissing her chastely. "I know. I finally know now." Leaning up she kissed his cheek, then fell back against him.

"What changed?"

He pulled her closer, his lips once again pressing to her hair. "Last week we were sleeping and I got up to get a glass of water—" Belle peeked up to look at him, her eyes stinging at the nearly overwhelming amount of love she saw in them. "When I came back into the room, you were frowning. There was a tiny furrow between your eyebrows that hadn't been there when I'd left, and when I got back in bed... it went away. You snuggled into me and you smiled, Belle."

"I love you, Ryden Gold." And those words were all she had— but they didn't seem strong enough. Her chest absolutely ached with love for him, and being away from him was painful. How was she supposed to put something like that into words? To tell him that she loved him _because_ of his past— not despite it? "I love you, sweetheart."

A single drop of liquid landed on her head, then another. She held him tightly as he cried silently, his tears both mending and breaking her heart simultaneously. The thought of Ryden hurting made Belle feel vaguely sick. It was times like this that she wanted nothing more than to hug him so tight that their bodies merged together so she could protect him from everything.

But then again, Ryden needed this. He needed to grieve for the life he'd never had, the woman who should have been his mother— the man that should have been his father.

The boy who should have been a child.

And when the storm passed, she'd be here. Belle would hold him until the sun burned out, until the stars exploded... until time stopped.

"I love you too, Belle."

Maybe the words were enough after all. 


	18. And They Lived...

The very first clue—the most _obvious_ one—was the text message. And it wasn't as if she and Ryden never texted, because that wasn't true, but at the same time… it usually wasn't for things like this. Plus, Ryden knew that—for all she loved to read—Belle preferred the sound of his voice in her ear over the sight of little letters on her phone screen. Almost unbearably sweet letters, but letters nonetheless.

_I've been thinking about you all day and I want to do something special. Granny's at seven? Meet me there. I love you. –Ryden_

Belle sighed and traced the words with her index finger, smiling helplessly. She was so far beyond “in love” that there wasn't a word in her near infinite vocabulary to describe it. A bad day could be turned around with nothing more than a fleeting seconds eye contact and that ridiculously adorable half smile that made her heart skip a beat. Ryden told her time and time again that she saved him, that she made him brave, that she…

But in truth, it was all him. He was the one who had decided to trust her despite all those who had taken extreme advantage of that trust. She'd seen the way his heart had been locked and guarded, but he was the one who handed over the key. It had taken months and months of steady conversation, years of clenched teeth at the sight of fresh bruises and multiple trips into a bread pantry. All of those little things—his “flaws”, as Ryden saw them—only made Belle love him more. It took a special kind of person to live through hell and come out just as sweet and loving as before. His body and mindset had changed over those harsh years, but her Ry—her sweetheart, never wavered.

Which is why Belle was staring at her phone in confusion. Every time they went out to eat, they went together. There was an intimacy in the act of getting dressed and ready in the same room, his laughter as he changed his tie to match her dress, distracting kisses that inevitably led to them being late to… well… wherever. So what had changed?

It didn't matter. In a few hours she would be with him and she could ask him herself. Belle snuggled back into the bed with a little sigh, tossing an arm over her eyes. There was no point in useless worrying. Today was the first day in a very long time that she had a day off from work and there was no way she was spending the rest of it stressing out over nothing. Ryden was just being sweet, surprising her with dinner at Granny's.

The second clue was delivered in the form of a sharp knock at their front door, one that made Belle frown and sit up in the bed. With a groan she dragged herself up and out of bed, casting a mournful look at the book placed neatly on her bedside table. It would be there when she got back. Even so, Belle hurried down the steps and opened the door quickly, blinking slowly at the sight of an unmarked white box siting proudly on the porch. There was an obviously painstakingly tied green ribbon across the top, making the box seem cheerful and inviting.

With a little laugh Belle picked up the box, bumping the door closed with her hip behind her. It was light—far lighter than she'd expected, and when she carefully untied the beautiful ribbon and lifted the lid, tears immediately pooled in her eyes. Shaking hands lifted the gorgeous green dress from its home, the velvet cool and smooth against her fingers. A small piece of paper fluttered slowly to the ground and Belle snatched for it, allowing her eyes to drink in the familiar sight of his neat handwriting.

_A beautiful dress for a beautiful woman. Seems fitting, yeah? I can't wait to see you Belle. –Ryden_

“Oh Ry…” swallowing thickly Belle ran her fingers over the fabric again, mesmerized. The dress itself was like something out of a fairytale, but that wasn't the cause for the lump that was currently stuck in her throat. The one that made it hard to draw a full breath and threatened to choke her with it's intensity. Everything about the dress—from its long sleeves to its swishing skirt—was perfectly suited to her tastes.

Shaking herself, Belle carefully draped the dress over the top of the table, dashing back up the stairs. Clearly this dinner was very important to Ryden and if he was going to buy her a dress fit for a princess, then she was going to damn well look like a princess. It took almost no time at all to shower and scrub her hair, drying it meticulously. Doing her makeup was the easiest part of getting ready, keeping it simple and light. After a brief moment of deliberation Belle opted to wear her hair up in the most elaborately styled bun she could, smiling at herself in the mirror at the finished result. She swore lightly under her breath at the sight of the clock, the bright numbers mocking her. Thirty minutes.

Anticipation made her heart race as she hurried back downstairs, a towel clutched tightly around her. The dress was exactly where she'd left it, the sight of it once again making a lump settle heavily in her throat. Quickly Belle pulled it on and did up the laces, being very careful to not mess up her hair nor makeup. She was ready.

The dress was a perfect fit, the cut of it subtly emphasizing her curves. Belle wasn't a vain woman, but looking at herself in the mirror—it was dizzying. She couldn't see a trace of the florists daughter in the sharp blue eyes reflected back at her; the meek bookworm lost by the elegant dress hugging her body. Blinking out of her reverie, Belle grabbed her keys and a pair of black heels, rushing out the door. She'd waited long enough to see the man she loved.

Cruising the streets of Storybrooke was a fun pastime, taking in all the sights she'd recently learned to appreciate again. However… not right now. Right now the only thing she wanted to do was fling herself into Ryden's arms and the short trip to the diner was too long when her heart was aching with need for him.

To her surprise, and dismay, Granny's was dark when she pulled into the parking lot. Quickly she parked her car and walked up to the doors of the diner, frowning in dismay. “Oh no. No, no, no.” Belle whispered, yanking on the closed doors—then narrowly avoiding falling as they opened up. The fading light from outside showed her that the place was empty and her heart did a funny little flip in her chest as her feet carried her on the familiar path.

_“Granny, do you need any help? Dad is okay at the shop right now and I'm done with all my school work!” The plump woman smiled down at Belle fondly, making the little girl squirm with joy. It wasn't her fault—she liked helping people!_

_The woman ruffled her hair affectionately. “Well, aren't you a little princess?—“ Belle beamed up at her, loving the sparkle in Granny's eyes. Was she truly the only one who saw the joy in helping others? Dad said she was one in a million, but that scared her sometimes. The world mustn't be a very nice place if not everyone loved helping people. “Actually, there is. Emma Nolan is having her birthday party here and I need more bread. Would you mind running to the pantry for me?”_

_Belle nodded immediately, practically wriggling with the prospect of being useful. “Of course not, Granny! I wouldn't mind at all!” She hurried to prove how excited she was, stopping short at the sound of quiet sniffles. In a few of the books that she'd read, furniture was alive and could talk, but Belle had never met any before._

_“Hello?” She said softly, laying a hesitant hand against the smooth wood. The sniffling stopped. “Is everything okay?” Belle felt rather silly talking to a pantry, but a far more likely scenario had presented itself. “Is someone in there?”_

_The door creaked open slightly, a small head poking out hesitantly. “Me. It's me—I'm sorry. I know that—Belle?” The face was familiar to her, even if she only lived in Storybrooke for a little while. But the voice, the voice was a dead give away._

_“Ryden,” Belle said cheerfully, leaning back against the bread pantry and smiling at him. “What're you doing in there?”_

Rose petals. Her third and final clue.

There was an entire pathway made from them. Above her head Belle could see fairy lights twinkling but all of that faded to the nothing when she saw Ryden. He was beaming at her, a rose held loosely in his hand as his eyes trailed from her hair to her toes, then back up again.

“Belle, you look…” she could see the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, that same nervous half smile on his lips. Gods, that _smile_ … “You look incredible, love.”

She dimpled at him, then dropped into a quick curtsy. “Why thank you, good sir. But I can't take all the credit—“ at his confused smile she took another step closer to him, close enough to feel the heat of his skin. “This dress is gorgeous, Ry.” He swallowed again, his thumb coming up to brush her jaw softly. Belle's eyes fluttered closed.

“No. The dress is lovely, but you… you're gorgeous. Like a dream come true.” Her eyes opened at that and Ryden ducked his head a little, his ears turning pink. Belle giggled helplessly.

“You're adorable Ry. You know that, right?”

He huffed out a little laugh. “Not exactly what I was going for but beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose—“ his lips quirked up in response to his joke and Belle rolled her eyes at him. Ryden's self esteem would never be the highest, but he had gotten better. No longer did shadows haunt him, nor did he tell her what was best for her. And she was _so_ proud of him.

Belle took the last little step between them, pressing up against him and lowering her voice to a throaty whisper. “You're also incredibly sexy, but I thought that was already a given.” Leaning back she watched as the pinkness in his ears spread to his cheeks, then his face, and then down his neck where it disappeared under his shirt. Belle snickered.

He floundered just a bit, then extended the rose to her. “For you.” At his request, Belle dipped her head, feeling him wind the flower into her hair. When he tugged her slightly, she retook that half a step, resting her head against his chest with a sigh. The sound of his heartbeat would forever be her favorite song, loud and strong. When he took a step back, she followed immediately. Together they walked backwards until he sat down in the bread pantry and she she sat on his lap.

Absently she played with the buttons of his dress shirt, pressing her lips softly to the base of his throat. “Ry—sweetheart—what is all of this?” Belle felt his fingers tracing nonsense patterns across her back, his lips skimming her forehead in a ghost kiss.

“I love you. And I just wanted tonight be be special. Look.” Gentle hands guided her to look out and from her position in the pantry, Belle could see that the rose petals were shaped like little hearts, framed perfectly by the twinkling lights above them. They were in their own personal little nest, tucked safely in each other's arms. She never wanted to be anywhere else.

Ryden pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, then whispered, “In the corner, there's a picnic basket. If you want? A-And some wine…” turning in his arms she pecked him on the lips, scooting over to grab the picnic basket.

The basket itself was a chestnut brown and wicker, as beautiful and elegant as the rest of the setup was. But she didn't see any wine. Grabbing the basket she turned back around. “Hey sweetheart, is the wine—“

It shouldn't have been a surprise. Between the text and the dress and the bloody _rose petals_ it shouldn't have been a surprise. There had been an unyielding pounding in her heart since the moment she walked through the doors and saw Ry in a shirt that perfectly matched her dress, petals scattered below him and lights twinkling above. But still… the sight of him on one knee stole the rest of the words right from her lips and the air from her lungs.

“Hi,” he said softly, flashing her a goofy smile that forced a watery chuckle from her tight throat. “I um, I was thinking earlier about everything that's been going on and how lucky I am that you were with me through it all. I tried to picture it without you, but that road was dark and lonely and I realized—I realized that I don't want to be alone, not even in my mind. But more than that Belle,” he reached up and wiped away a single tear with the pad of his thumb, his fingers pressing briefly to her cheek after. “I realized I don't want to be without you.”

He was still talking but the urge the kiss him was so overwhelming that she was nearly mad with it. Without giving herself time to question it Belle darted in and kissed him, allowing her hands to sink into his hair as she let out another watery chuckle. “I'm sorry,” she breathed against his smiling lips, nuzzling her nose against his cheek for a brief moment. “I'm sorry. I had to kiss you. Please, continue.”

The smile stretched across his face was nothing short of wondering, making it very hard to not simply lean in and kiss him again. She bit her lip to dampen the urge.

“Marry me,” Ryden said simply, opening the ring box for inspection. Belle made a sound between a gasp and a cough, eyes wide. The ring was white gold with a perfect sized diamond in the middle, two smaller sapphire blue stones on either side of it.

No matter how hard she tried, Belle couldn't get her voice to work. Like a giant boulder had been lodged in her throat the only thing she could manage was quick, jerky nods and a choked laugh. Unable—and _unwilling_ —to resist any longer, Belle lunged at him, laughing when he effortlessly picked her up and spun her around in a circle. “Yes of course! Yes!”

Without loosening his tight hold on her, Ryden slid the ring onto her finger. “It's a perfect f—“ Belle swallowed the rest of his words with her kiss, the force of it sending them back a few steps. Her toes barely skimmed the floor as Ryden spun them around again, dancing to some melody in his mind. It didn't matter to Belle, so long as his lips stayed pressed against hers, everything was perfect. 


	19. A Bump in the Road

Guilt was a funny emotion. At the time, Ryden hadn't felt it. He clearly remembered the terrified pounding of his heart, the tears that choked him and… surprisingly… anger. And it wasn't the kind of anger that was deep and lasting—or even had a real, justified reason for being there. He was just angry. The feeling had hit him with the force of a hurricane, making him dizzy with it.

Ryden looked around the empty room blankly, his eyes not even watering. The tears had gone when the numbness started, which had been immediately after the slamming of their—of _his_ front door. She'd left in a whirlwind of movement, her words cutting him deeper than any knife possibly could, and here he was in the aftermath. He supposed the normal response would be to cry and sob until he felt better, but he couldn't.

He just felt _empty_.

The left side of the bed—Belle’s side—was unbearably cold and empty, the sheets still smooth. She hadn't even stayed the night. In fact, she'd been so desperate to get away from him that she hadn't even taken her belongings. Ryden blinked harshly and sat lower into his bed, wrapping his arms tightly around himself in a hug. It wasn't right though. His arms were too long and too bulky, they weren't smooth and they certainly didn't smell like vanilla. A scent he'd never be able to smell again without his heart clenching painfully in his chest.

Maybe it was best that she'd left. Maybe now was better than a few years down the road. What if they'd had a child? That would have no doubt led to a messy custody battle that really promised no victor. Ryden regarded the empty scotch bottle on his bedside table with a bitter grin. He hadn't been this drunk in a while. It helped, like a transparent barrier between himself and the vast ocean of pain in front of him. It still hurt, but that was to be expected.

Expected.

That's why the tears that had been burning at his eyes and throat hadn't fallen, why the world around him wasn't imploding in on itself. That eight lettered word explained everything. Ryden had known that Belle would eventually leave him, he'd told her countless times throughout their childhood. But Belle… sweet and beautiful and loving, she'd told him she wouldn't.

And, like an idiot, he'd believed her. Ryden had stared into those mesmerizing blue eyes and believed her. His past hadn't mattered—his father hadn't mattered. Belle loved him and she'd promised to stay. So he'd believed her.

Now she was gone.

~X~ 

_**Twelve hours earlier** _

_The stack of papers in her hand wasn't what scared him. After all, he knew exactly what they were. It was the carefully blank expression pained on her face, the way she was holding the papers in front of her like a shield. No—not a shield. Her expression might have been blank but the cold fury in her eyes was unmistakable._

_She held them like a sword. “I'm still waiting on an explanation, Ryden.” As if he couldn't see them, Belle gave the papers a hard shake. He could see the way that her jaw was trembling from the way she was clenching it—or that's what he hoped. Belle's anger was much better than Belle's tears._

_“Its emails.” Her expression never wavered, but a single eyebrow lifted slowly. Ryden swallowed painfully as her eyes narrowed. His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest, banging harshly against it._

_“Right, okay,” Belle glanced down at the papers in her hand and began reading aloud, “To Mrs Colette French, while I am unaware of the apparent strain on your relationship with your daughter, she is to become my wife—“ her eyes flickered up to him accusingly, “Your wife who you apparently have no trouble keeping secrets from.”_

_“It's not like that!” Ryden protested immediately, taking a quick step toward her. Belle countered his movement with a quick step back. “Yes I've been talking to her—“_

_“Been talking?! How long, Ryden?”_

_“—but I was doing it for you! Things between Amelia and I have been going so well and I wanted to try and thank you for that. I just wanted to help!”_

_If she had heard a word he'd said, it didn't show. Her eyes were still dark and narrowed, the papers in her hand crinkling as she made a fist. “How long have you been talking to her Ryden?” There was an odd note to her voice, but still—the words were clear and sharp. They lashed against his throbbing heart and he was a wreck in the face of how utterly calm she was._

_Ryden swallowed again and spoke as clearly as he could. “A week.”_

_A breathy sob escaped from Belle's trembling lips and he was lost. So, so lost. It didn't make any sense! Before he had the chance to ask for an explanation of some sort or anything that would give him insight, she was talking again. “You know how strained my relationship with my mother is. You know that I wouldn't want her brought up. You went behind my back and didn't even think to talk to me about it.”_

_He gaped at her. “No, I don't! I don’t know. All you ever told me was that she stayed in Australia when you and your father moved here. We never talk about her, the name Colette French was never even brought up!” The papers fluttered slowly to the floor as Belle's hand suddenly relaxed, her entire body seeming to go limp._

_Ryden took another little step towards her, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. “Belle, please talk to me. Tell me what's going on. I-I want to help! I don't want to fight with you, love. Please let me help.” She blinked up at him before shaking off his arm, crossing her own arms across her chest._

_“Yeah…” Belle sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. “Look, Ryden, I-I need to go.”_

_He stared at her blankly, her words not processing. “No, Belle please. Please. Look, I'll… I'll go sleep in the guest room. Please just don't…don’t leave. Please don't leave.” There was something dark and angry in her expression that he'd never seen before, something that made his racing heart nearly stop._

_“I need to go.” She looked up at him for a moment—just a moment, and Ryden thought she might change her mind. Her eyes were huge and shimmering with tears as she just stared at him, almost like she wanted to say something but she couldn't._

_Ryden licked his lips, a new kind of desperation suddenly burning through him. “Don't leave me. Please, Belle.” It was pathetic and clingy but it was all he had, all he could say. “I need you.” And truer words had never been spoken._

_He saw the muscles of her throat clench as she swallowed, the way her eyes fluttered before the seemed to ground herself. “I just need some time, okay? I'll…” Belle blinked, shaking her curly head once in a rapid movement. “I need some time.”_

_Belle's petite form slipped past him and out into the hallway, a second later he heard the front door slam. His chest ached in a funny sort of way, deep and painful, but also burning. Like someone had lit a match in his heart. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. The tears simply wouldn't fall._

_All he felt was a sharp yet dull ache, and an almost unbearable loneliness._

_All he felt was nothing._


	20. Her Little Boy

Amelia cruised the streets of Storybrooke with a fond smile, looking closely at the place that would soon become her new home. Or rather—her first home. The places she'd been before hadn't been a home, they'd been temporary stops as she chased her bastard of an ex husband and her precious little boy around the bloody _country_. But Storybrooke… it had grown on her. It was charming and charismatic, a happy and relatively friendly place. Of course, it could also be some backwater downtown area and it'd still be beautiful because it's where Ryden was.

That stupid speeding ticket was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And while the memory of how she'd unknowingly first treated Ryden still made her wince, Amelia had a very long time to make it up to him. These past few weeks had been a sort of tortuous paradise, seeing him and being around him and holding him, to then have him pull back just a little. Her sweet little Ryden was fragile as a twig at times, then harder than stone at others. He'd been abused—and oh, she'd given Malcolm Gold's tombstone _hell_ for that—and abandoned.

Amelia slowed her car to a stop and swallowed harshly, blinking away the onslaught of tears. Not abandoned. _Never_ abandoned. Despite what he'd been forced to grow up thinking, Ryden had been—was!—so, _so_ loved. She loved him so much that she occasionally considered trying to bring Malcolm back from the dead just so that she could kill him herself. That wouldn't change the years of abuse that Ryden had suffered at his hands though. His scars might not be visible but then ran deep, _far_ deeper than he'd let her see yet. She was still new, not “Mrs Danvers” but not “Mom”. That particular moniker had crossed his lips precious few times, but he always looked so uncomfortable that Amelia couldn't appreciate it.

The smell of bacon and pancakes wafted through her slightly cracked window and as if on cue, Amelia's stomach let out a mournful rumble. Checking to make sure that she was properly parked, she grabbed her purse and hurried into Granny's, still smiling. That smile only widened, after it faltered for a moment in bewilderment, when she actually opened to door. “What did you _do_?” She exclaimed, rushing over to where Ryden sat. He looked up at her blankly and Amelia let one of her hands stroke through his hair—his much _shorter_ hair.

She watched the way his fingers tightened around his cup of… coffee? Since when did Ryden drink _coffee_? Then he very slowly pulled away from her hand. Amelia swallowed and slid into the booth across from him, still trying to keep her smile in place. “I bet my reaction wasn't half as amusing as Belle's—“ and while typically the mention of the other woman's name brought a sort of dopey smile to her son’s face, this time he flinched like she'd struck him. The hand that was clutching the cup of coffee tightened so much that the mug began to shake and Amelia gently slid her fingers through its handle, pulling it from his grasp.

“What happened?” Because there was definitely something wrong. And it seemed to revolve around Belle. Truth be told, Amelia loved that girl. She loved how she was with Ryden, how sweet and patient and caring she was at heart… _however_ … Ryden came first. “I want to make it better honey, but I need to know what's wrong.” Her words were presumptuous _as hell_ , but she couldn't help it! She was his _mother_. It was her job to protect him from what might hurt him, even if the threat right now was Belle. Wide and startled brown eyes met her own and Amelia felt her beat pick up its pace as he gazed at her in what she hoped was acceptance and not distain.

Ryden blinked once and inhaled shakily, appearing to look through her. “There's a bread pantry, just down the hall from the kitchen. I found it once when I was hiding from him. From Malcolm—“ Amelia sucked in a quiet breath and clutched at her leg, allowing the sharp sting of pain to ground her. He needed to talk and she needed to listen, no matter how much she longed to cover his mouth. “Well, Granny showed me. I hid there a lot, to escape from him and myself and everything. She found me. She stayed with me…” his voice trailed off into nothing as he stared down the hall where she assumed the pantry was. “Barely over a week ago I proposed to her in there. In _our_ pantry. We were so happy.” The pieces were starting to fall into place but Amelia kept quiet, daring to reach out and rest her hand next to his. Not touching, no… Ryden looked like he was already falling apart as it was. That gentle touch might send him over the edge. So instead she rested her hand next to his, hoping that he could feel the heat of her arm next to his clammy skin.

“We had a fight.” And there it was, the reason his brown eyes—eyes _just like_ her own—were bloodshot and red, the reason he was practically quivering in his seat. Amelia wondered fleetingly if they'd ever had a fight before, though now wasn't the time to ask. But based on Ryden's reaction to this fight, she was willing to bet not.

“Oh honey…” she smiled tremulously, the sight of him in pain hurting her. “Fights are normal. I know it hurts right now but I promise it'll get better. Do you know where she is?” He blinked owlishly at her, looking so fragile and _so_ young.

“Probably almost to Boston by now.” Amelia tilted her head in confusion, feeling her eyebrows drawing low. Boston? Why the hell would she go to _Boston_?

Without making eye contact, Ryden slid his phone across the table. Not sure what she was expecting, Amelia picked up the device and looked down at the words in front of her.

_Ryden, I'm going to stay with my father up in Boston. I’m sorry. I know this doesn't make any sense, but I just need some time. Don't worry about sending me my stuff, it's fine. Just please stop trying to contact me. I'm sorry. Goodbye. –Belle_

Amelia looked at the screen in disbelief, unable to believe the words that she was reading. “It'll get better, right?” Ryden whispered across from her, his eyes unusually bright even though his face was carefully blank. “It's just temporary. She's going to _bloody Boston_!”

Her head snapped up, but she didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to make it better. Her son was across from her, obviously in pain, and she _had_ to help him. “Come on,” she demanded softly, rising and tugging on his arm. “Come on. Up. Let's go.” Without loosening her hold on his arms, Amelia reached into her pocket and tossed a handful of bills onto the table, enough to cover his coffee and a tip. Ryden looked up at her and she sucked in a breath when she saw the clear pain reflected on his face. He was lowering his mask for her.

“Up,” Amelia said again, giving him a bright smile when he complied. “See? Not too bad. C’mon, honey. We're going on a little walk.” Ryden stumbled along with her, letting her keep her tight hold on his arm, and together they strolled out of the diner. She gave her car a fleeting glance, but decided that the fresh air would do him some good. He kept pace with her, quiet, and she didn't push.

“Where are we going?” Ryden asked finally, glancing down at her with red rimmed eyes.

Amelia took a deep breath and let the inevitable wave of pain wash over her, collecting her thoughts. “After your father took you, I hired a PI. It didn't feel like enough—I wanted to find you and I wanted to find you _immediately_ —“ Ryden was looking at her with clouded eyes, dark and heartbroken. She pressed her hand against her chest, forcing herself to keep talking through the blinding pain, reliving the worst day of her life. “But I couldn't. I would have _crawled_ through Scotland, but I needed to give them someone to bring you back to. Do you want to know what I did?”

“Yes.” His answer was immediate, something besides pain flashing in his eyes. Amelia squeezed his arm briefly before turning a corner on the street. She took a minute to compose her thoughts, watching as the town psychiatrist—Archie?—walked his dog, the cars passing them by on the street. “I went to work. I tried to keep things as routine as I could, tried to focus on making sure that _when_ you came back, you had stability.”

Ryden blinked, suddenly seeming to focus in on their surroundings. “We're in front of my office.” He didn't seem upset about the fact, just slightly bewildered. Then the rest of her words must have processed. “You said ‘when’.”

Amelia squeezed his arm tightly, running her hand through his hair once, brushing the shorter strands away from his forehead. It wasn't the life she'd pictured for them, but she still loved him just as much now as she did the day he'd been born.“I had hope. So should you.”


	21. Blast from the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for: alcoholism, car accidents and abuse

Alcoholism. That single word, that _label_ , was what had ultimately torn apart her family. Colette French had been kind and caring, funny and charming and perfect. Everyone in Melbourne had admired her and her work. Belle had taken an unexplainable kind of pride in being the daughter of Colette French, a beautiful woman and a marvelous painter. A _marvelous_ painter. The kind of marvelous where you had to look extra hard at the painting, run your fingers delicately over breathtaking image to feel the texture born from strokes of the brush.

Yes, Belle had rather liked being the daughter of Colette French. But—like everything in life, that inevitably came to a rather drastic end. She could still feel the seatbelt holding her firmly in place, the heat from the sparks that showered through her open window. They had been attending an art show, just her and Colette, and the fizzy “grownup drink” was being passed around generously. Belle had watched as her mother drained glass after glass, trying desperately hard to fit in with the other artists that decorated the gallery. She didn't. Her parents, Belle’s grandparents, weren't rich. They hadn't personally put Colette French through the best art schools that Australia had to offer. Work, honest _work_ , was an enigma for those people. Still though, Colette had drank and drank and _drank_.

Then she tried to drive.

In the grand scheme of things, they'd been unbelievably fortunate. Their car had flipped a few times, but the worst thing to happen had been her mother’s hand getting broken. In three different places. If she closed her eyes, Belle could still hear the crunch of metal and bone and pavement, the restraint belt gluing her back to her seat.

Belle slammed on her breaks and listened as the car came to a screeching halt, feeling just as trapped as she had in her mother’s car all those years ago. The alcohol had stolen Colette’s talent, her broken hand no longer able to master the same elegant movements it had before. Belle had been young— _so young_ —and thoroughly unprepared for the backlash that followed her mother’s reaction to losing her dreams.

A sob burned low in her chest and Belle refused to let it escape, feeling as the pain grew sharper and sharper until it dissipated slowly. The complete emptiness she felt following that didn't last long. Anger—sudden and consuming, replaced the pain of her past and Belle latched onto it, coming up short when she realized who it was directed at.

Her calm temper and rationality was one thing Belle prided herself on, so anger itself was a bit of a new emotion for her. But anger specifically directed at Ryden? That was _entirely_ new. Not only had he snooped through all of her files, but he'd also _neglected to tell her!_ It was so unlike him, so completely opposite his hesitant personality. Belle chewed on her lower lip in frustration, trying to slow her racing heart. This—this _right here_ —was why she'd left those stupid papers in her old apartment in the first place, so he couldn't—

She'd left the papers in her apartment. _She'd left the papers in her bloody apartment._ The entirety of Colette’s influence her life had fix in a little box, a box that Belle had made the conscious decision to leave behind. So how the _hell_ had Ryden gotten ahold of it? It didn't make any sense.

Feeling shaky, she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed the number she'd had memorized for years. A very bad feeling was starting to settle in the pit of her stomach and she needed to know if the sudden sinking feeling in her heart had any merit.

He picked up on the third ring. “Hello? Whos’this?”

“Dad…” Belle breathed out, clutching the phone just a little bit tighter. She couldn't help it, her need for reassurance taking priority over the ridiculousness of the hour she'd chosen to call. “I'm sorry for calling so late, I just… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh ducky, call anytime. You know that—“ his voice suddenly cut off with a yawn that made Belle giggle despite how suddenly fragile she felt. Her mother might not have been a great role model for her, but Belle was lucky to have a father like Maurice. Even if he was unintentionally playing a huge part in what Belle would consider the biggest misunderstanding of her _entire_ life. “What's on your mind?”

“I just wanted to know… has mom reached out to you lately?” She practically held her breath as she waited for his answer, straining her ears just in case he whispered it. At this point she wasn't sure if she wanted him to say yes or no. If it was a “no” then she would probably head back home and sit down to have a long conversation with Ryden about what was appropriate to stay quiet about and what wasn't. And if it was a “yes”, Belle had a feeling she was about to be doing some _serious_ groveling. She knew more than most just how slippery Colette could be, and if she'd snapped at him when he'd just been listening to “Belle’s loving mother”, she might never forgive herself.

And it didn't help that she'd only read one of their bloody emails.

“Why as a matter of fact, she has! Wanted to know how you were doing and I told her that you'd just recently gotten engaged—has she reached out to you?” The hope in her father’s voice made her want to respond affirmatively, even as her heart sank. So Ryden had been fooled by the devil. And then Belle had snapped at him. Her poor sweetheart was probably a wreck and she _needed_ to be there.

Belle closed her eyes tightly, resting her head against the back of her seat. It was all too easy to imagine her mother contacting Ryden, tossing him some sob story about how she'd made so many mistakes and just needed a chance and… it was utter crap. _All_ of it. Colette French was a pathological _liar_. “What exactly did you tell her, dad?”

She could hear him moving around, presumably trying to wake himself up more. “I-I merely said that you were now happily engaged to a handsome young fellow name Ryden Gold. I don't understand, ducky. What's going on? Did something happen?” _Yes, what happened is I'm a bloody idiot who started thinking with my heart and not my head._

“No, no. I—“ she was not _okay_. Belle was so far away from okay that it no longer seemed like a tangible thing. She felt angry at herself and her mother and all she wanted to do was go and be with Ryden. Her past was still somewhat of a mystery to him and she finally realized how unfair that was. “I just wanted to clear something up. Everything is okay, dad. I promise. I love you but I really have to go.”

“Yes of course, ducky. Call anytime.” She promised to be in touch again soon, and they said their goodbyes.

After they hung up Belle immediately put her car in reverse—then promptly slammed on her brakes as her taillights highlighted a man walking towards her. His hands were raised in a gesture of surrender and she rolled down her window as he walked up, eyeing him just a bit warily.

He flashed her a charming smile, slowly lowering his hands to his side. “Sorry to startle you love, I couldn't help but notice your car just sitting here. Do you require some assistance?” Belle smiled brightly at him, her earlier fears soothed by his worry.

“No I was just… clearing my head. I’m actually headed home now.” If you'll get out of my way. His grin never wavered, even as he reached a hand behind his head to scratch at his obviously gel caked hair. And was he wearing _eyeliner_?

“Then perhaps you might help me? I’m a bit lost, is all.” Fumbling around in his back pocket, he finally withdrew a faded map of Storybrooke and offered it to her. “I'm looking for ‘Granny's’? Would you happen to know where it is?”

Belle tapped right in the center of his map, understanding his confusion. The letters really were faded, so a little reassurance could go a long way. Especially if he was new in town. She certainly hadn't seen him around. “Granny usually stays open until midnight on weekends, so you're lucky.”

“Indeed,” he flashed her another charming grin and Belle did her best to smile back at him, feeling unexplainably uncomfortable. She had helped him, so why was he still standing beside her car, practically leaning against it? He really was objectively quite handsome, though not at all her type. She preferred quiet and layered men, who often had a complexity of anxieties and went by the name of Ryden Gold. Just thinking of him sent a wave of fierce love crashing through her and Belle shifted in her seat. Hopefully this conversation would be over soon. “Lucky that a beautiful woman decided to clear her head at the very docks I happened to stumble upon. Say… d’you want to go for coffee? From this Granny?”

“You're very sweet, but no.” Belle raised her left hand, flashing him her engagement ring and a small smile. The man's grin never wavered, his eyes seeming a little too bright for what time it was. Privately Belle wondered if he was a junkie of some sort. That would certainly explain the way he was all but bouncing now, even though earlier he had been smooth and somewhat suave.

“Some other time then,” he took a little step back from her door and Belle sighed in relief. “Thank you for your help Miss…?”

“Belle,” she answered. “My name is Belle.”

All of a sudden then, something flashed in his eyes. Something crazy and maybe slightly maniacal. “Like the librarian? Belle French?” When she nodded at his question, the grin that spread across his face was _far_ less charming. “Now love, why'd you have to go and say that?”

“I'm sorry,” Belle began hesitantly, “I really have to—“

That was as far as she got before his fist connected with the side of her head and everything went black.

~X~

Belle wasn't sure how much time had passed between her being knocked out and her waking up, but one thing was clear—she was _screwed_. The restraints around her legs were so tight that they bit into her skin, her hands secured behind her back with zip ties. What the hell? Her heart was pounding in her chest and Belle forced herself to breathe and think clearly.

Panicking would only make it worse.

“Hello, darling. Miss me?”

Her previously pounding heart stopped cold at that voice, her eyes unable to believe what— _who_ —she was seeing. There had to be some explanation other than the one she was drawing, but no matter how many times she opened and closed her eyes, the other woman didn't disappear. And the pain from the restraints tied about her ankles assured her that this was no dream. Or rather— _nightmare_. “Cora.”

The snake smiled nastily and lowered herself to squat in front of Belle. “Ah, good! Always glad to make a… _lasting_ impression.”

“Ryden knows that I was at the docks. He’ll be looking for me soon.” The lie sprang to her lips before she could contemplate the repercussions of saying them. Too late now, she supposed. Belle schooled her face into what she hoped was casual confidence, her heart once again picking up its tempo.

Cora didn't even blink, that same nasty smile twisting at her lips. “Really? Because—“ in a slow and deliberate movement, she withdrew Belle's phone from her pocket. “Hook found this on you. ‘Belle, I'm sorry, I didn't know things were so bad.’ ‘Please just come back. We can work through this I know we can. Please. I’m sorry.’ ‘Belle, you promised.’” By the end of the messages Belle’s eyes were watering so bad that she could hardly see, but she refused to give Cora the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“Let's respond, shall we?” With an easygoing smile, Cora leaned back and started typing, her face intent on the screen. Behind her the same man from the docks, “Hook” Belle presumed, was leaning against the doorframe, watching the proceedings with a gleeful interest.

Belle struggled uselessly against her restraints. They were cutting into her skin hard enough to draw blood but that didn't matter because if Cora hit send… “No! Please, don't! Please don't.” Cora didn't even look up, just continued tapping away, making Belle’s heart sink with every little cheerful click of the keyboard.

_I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I never should have stormed out like that, I wish I wouldn't have. I wish I would've told you about my mother before all of this even started, I wish… I wish… I wi—_

“There!” Cora exclaimed brightly, smiling down at Belle and looking infinitely proud of herself. “Ryden, I'm going to stay with my father up in Boston. I’m sorry. I know this doesn't make any sense, but I just need some time. Don't worry about sending me my stuff, it's fine. Just please stop trying to contact me. I'm sorry. Goodbye. Signed as Belle.”

“Well done,” Hook cheered, raising a cup of something sharp smelling in a show of admiration. Belle felt sick. “If that doesn't force the sniffling bastard to stay away, nothing will.” Cora turned and smiled, running a hand through Hook’s hair with a malicious little laugh.

“Oh darling, fear not. Poor Ryden will be destroyed by this.”

Belle couldn't move, couldn't breathe. “No, Cora please…” It was useless, but Belle would get on her knees and _beg_ so long as Cora didn't send that awful text.

“You got to watch as my world and my plans came crashing down around me, now it's my turn.” Belle's phone was tossed to the side and Cora wasted no time as she poured salt into the bleeding wound. “So what do you think, Belle? Did I sound like you? Will his heart be broken?”

Yes. Not only would it be broken, it would be _shattered_. And it was all Belle's fault. 


	22. A Night To Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Sorry about the lack of updating, it's been a crazy few weeks!

“Y’know, when I said that you should have hope and return to some kind of normal, this isn't exactly what I meant.” Ryden ignored her in favor of throwing back another shot, wincing as the alcohol burned his throat and chest. There was something about it though, the _burn_ , that made him feel loose and content. His heart was a block of ice but the drink gave him the illusion of that ice thawing. It was warm and tingly and felt a little bit like a hug.

“Ryden, stop. This isn't you, honey. And I know it hurts right now but I promise developing a habit like this will only make it worse.” Ignoring his mother, he signaled the bartender. Amelia was wrong in this case, the alcohol couldn't possibly make this any worse. Nothing could.

“Don't you dare,” Amelia warned. She and the bartender exchanged a look and Ryden sat perfectly sit, tapping his nails rhythmically against the smooth wood of the countertop. There would be no discussion, he knew. He was of age, he could pay and he certainly didn't have a history of getting drunk and making a scene. “Look I know this is a bit unusual, but he's had enough.”

“Refill please, Jack.” Ryden said coldly, throwing a glare over his shoulder in the direction of his mother. He'd taken her advice, he'd _tried_ to live normally. Now, he just wanted to drink himself into oblivion and finally wash the taste of Belle from his mouth. “I grow tired of waiting.”

Jack looked at his mother and shrugged, reaching under the counter to grab the half empty bottle of whiskey. “Sorry lady. He's legal to drink and he can pay.” And just like that, the conversation was over. His glass was refilled and Ryden took a moment to admire the amber liquid as it sloshed around in his cup, getting dangerously close to the lip of it before settling down.

He'd expected Amelia to go after that, finally leave him, give up on him. It's what everyone else had done. Ryden was done hoping. With a carefully drawn breath he pictured Belle's smile as clearly as he could, the shocking blue of her eyes, the softness of her pale skin. Then he reached for the shot, intending to wash the image away.

Amelia beat him to it. Her fingers wrapped around the shot glass and she downed it instantly, slamming it back on the table. The force she used should have been enough to shatter it entirely—crack it at the very least.

“I've had a lot of practice,” Amelia confided as she slid into the barstool next to him. The warmth radiating off of her mixed with the heat of The Rabbit Hole should've been enough to have him sweating and uncomfortable. Instead it only highlighted how cold he felt. “This was my life for the first few weeks after Malcom took you.” Her fingers thumped twice against the wood and Jack turned at the sound, his eyebrows raised at what he saw. Ryden couldn't blame him. She'd gone from fighting with his bartender to ordering shots for the both of them.

“I thought that you said you went to work, so I could have something stable to come back to.” His voice was low and flat, almost drowned out by the harsh pounding of the music playing. Jack refilled his shot glass, and another one for his mother, and Ryden tried again. “The day I told you what happened, five days ago…” Six days, twelve hours and thirty seven minutes. Give or take a few minutes, it was hard to keep up when he was feeling as pleasantly buzzed as he was right now. That was how long she'd been gone... or there about. 

“I did. Eventually. But those first few weeks…” her eyes went unfocused and he could practically see her reliving it, the sudden tightness around her eyes and mouth, the furrow in her brow. Without thinking, Ryden let his fingers rest on top of the counter next to hers, barely touching. It seemed to be enough though, because she cleared her throat and tried again. “When the police told me that they were doing everything they could, it wasn't enough. You'd been gone for two days and on the third… I couldn't take it anymore. I went out. Got roaring drunk. Woke up in some guys bed with a splitting headache and…” Amelia shrugged, her arms wrapping around her stomach as she leaned forward just a bit.

“What happened? After you woke up?” Ryden moved his hand from the bar countertop to her back, trying to offer comfort. He wasn't quite sure how they'd come to this, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. It was an excellent distraction from the drink in front of him, a poor substitute for what he really wanted. Part of him wanted to hear nothing else, feeling like he'd heard too much already. He wanted another drink and the flashing lights in the club frequently shone on the full shot in front of him, making the amber liquid glisten. He didn't drink it though, not when right next to him Amelia was also so obviously in pain, her own glass still untouched. If she could avoid temptation, so could he. For now at least.

“I hated myself,” she blinked owlishly, looking very tired all of a sudden. “You have to understand Ryden, you were _everything_. I stopped being Amelia and started being ‘Ryden’s mom’. Once that was taken away, there was _nothing_. A great, big chasm of emptiness that I tried to fill with drinks and men and… I was a _mess_.”

The very tips of her fingers had slowly began to creep up the side of the shot glass, circling the rim of it before sliding back down and tapping the table gently. She did this a few more times and each time she did, her fingers would linger just a bit longer before she released the glass. She was torturing herself, Ryden realized. Allowing her hand to wrap around the glass before skittering away, never actually taking the shot. 

“When did it all change?” He asked desperately, narrowly avoiding snatching the glass away from her. It wouldn't solve anything. Maybe ease the pain for a night but what had happened was already in the past and the only thing the alcohol would do was—

_Oh_. The sight of his own full glass in front of him made Ryden feel nauseous instead of warm, any lingering tingle gone. She had been right, the drinking wasn't him. And it wouldn't help. Not really.

“I woke up in a jail cell,” she said unexpectedly, turning to look at him with clear and unclouded eyes. They were just like his own, so much so that it was all too easy to imagine that he was looking in a mirror. The emptiness there matched his own, but the weight was all hers. “I'd passed out behind whatever bar I had been in and someone called the cops. They carried me to the cruiser and put me in a cell so I'd be safe,” Amelia blinked harshly and her eyes closed tightly, the muscles of her throat working furiously. “I… I cried, when they told me that. Partially because I didn't remember any of it, I'd had so much to drink, but mostly because… because I failed you, those first few weeks.”

Ryden took a few minutes to processes that, his own throat suddenly tight with unshed tears. He wouldn't cry—he couldn't cry, not anymore. Crying was all he'd done for the past five days. He was out of tears. “I don't think you failed me,” he responded at last, glancing over to catch her downcast eyes. “You changed your ways, you stopped with the drinking and—“ Ryden waved his hand towards the small group of men across from them at the bar, the very tips of his ears heating painfully. At that, Amelia choked out a surprised laugh.

“Oh honey, I'm sorry—I just…” she started laughing again, her own face turning red very slowly. At least the heavy mood that had settled over them was broken, even if Ryden was slightly horrified. But she was laughing, so it seemed like a small sacrifice to make. His heart still hurt but it was easier to deal with when he was focusing on someone else. But her laugh… There was a hysterical edge to it that proved she wasn't okay, though the worst had passed. “Sorry for the mental image—“

“Oh God…” Ryden muttered, hiding his face in his hands. On second thought, maybe it wasn't such a slight sacrifice.

Thoroughly laughed out, Amelia wiped at the corner of her eyes before one again looking at him. Most of the humor had fled from her expression, but her brown eyes still twinkled at him. “I just wanted you to know that I've been there,” she said, finishing her thought at last. “I know it hurts and I know it feels as though the world is ending, but I promise it gets better. A day at a time, it gets better.”

Allowing himself to truly absorb her words, Ryden once again regarded the full shot in front of him. The liquid no longer held any temptation and he was ready to leave. Only… “Could I stay with you?” As far as he knew, she'd bought the place across from his and going home to an empty house was more than he could handle right now. Not when the scent of her still hung in the air and the sight of her clothes made his chest ache so bad he couldn't draw a full breath.

“Of course you can, honey.” Amelia's eyes were overly bright as she gripped his hand and Ryden cursed himself lowly. She was his mother but without Belle to help keep him afloat, it was hard to call her that, even in the privacy of his own mind. She tugged him up from the barstool and payed for both of their drinks, shushing his immediate protest.

“I couldn't buy you toys or clothes or books for school,” she said softly, walking with him to his car. Her hand tightened on his arm and Ryden stayed quiet as she gathered her thoughts, surprised when she let out a rusty sounding laugh. “But I guess now I can buy your whiskey. Can you drive?”

“Probably shouldn't,” Ryden admitted. He felt sober and alert, but it wasn't worth the risk. Plus, his emotions were still all over the place, his heart full of despair and pain and… it was better if he didn't drive. “What about you? Are you good?”

Amelia smiled and helped him get comfortable in the passengers seat, going as far as to buckle him in. Ryden didn't say anything but his lips curled up in an amused smile and he impulsively leaned forward to kiss her cheek. His doubts got the best of him at the last moment, so instead he rested his forehead against her temple for half a second. “Thank you.” And he didn’t just mean for the drinks or buckling him up, but for everything. She was trying _so hard_ and he couldn't even bring himself to call her mom.

Ryden chewed on his lower lip in frustration. Why couldn't he just do it? He'd done it before, but it had felt… wrong. Too soon.

Her eyes were once again wide and wet with tears but she beamed at him, tapping his nose affectionately. “You're welcome, honey.”

 

 


End file.
